


Dragonsinger

by LadyMoonScar



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Crush at First Sight, Dragon Charmer, F/M, First Love, Shrinkage but it's an inside joke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 03:48:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 21,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2533013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMoonScar/pseuds/LadyMoonScar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Viviane Summers was the victim of a terrible accident that left her scarred. Some years later she wakes up in the Shire and is taken in by Bilbo Baggins. She joins the Quest for Erebor and notices that a certain hat-wearing Dwarf has eyes for her...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was her hair.  
People were always staring at Viviane Summers because of her hair. They would glance at her and do a double, sometimes triple, check and their expressions would say ‘how in Hell can a young woman have that white of hair’? The answer was easy, but at the same time difficult to explain. Not to mention very private.  
Fourteen years ago, she and her parents had been involved in a car accident that had left them stranded in a snow bank. Her parents had frozen to death and Viviane had lost all feeling in her left hand as a result of really bad frostbite and her hair had turned white from the shock.

Viviane walked into the bakery where she worked, nodding once to Mark the cashier, and moved to the back. She opened her locker, deposited her jacket, purse and hat and pulled out her apron. She stepped up to her work station and began making the day’s bread.  
It was the same old routine; come in, make bread for eleven hours, go home. Rinse, lather and repeat. Most would say that it was a dull life, but the repetition was what kept her from thinking about what should have been. Viviane hated looking back over her shoulder; she always strived to stay in the present, occasionally peeking towards the future.  
She was happy and that’s what mattered.  
Viviane had no one; not a boyfriend, a pet or any family. She lived in a tiny apartment for one and it was enough. The bakery was a big success and the income kept her thriving. It was enough for her.

“Hey, Viv,” Mark said as he was closing up. “Listen, I was gonna head down to the pub and get something to drink. You wanna come?”  
“No thank you,” Viviane replied, zipping up her jacket. “I’m really tired.”  
“I could walk you home,” Mark suggested.  
Viviane frowned in confusion. “Why would you do that? I know the way.” She left him gaping like a fish.  
Sometimes…it was easier to play dumb. People would leave her alone after a while. If they wouldn’t- which was rarely- she would be rude and then they would leave. Viviane liked her privacy; she had been alone for almost a decade and a half. Having someone would just complicate things.  
Viviane pulled the hood of her jacket up and shoved her hands in her pockets. The sky had been overcast all day and the scent of rain was heavy in her nostrils. She ducked her head and breathed in the wonderful smell deeply. People passed her by and didn’t even glance at her. For this, Viviane was grateful.  
When she walked into her dingy apartment building, a clap of thunder startled her and she dropped the lift keys. She picked them back up and pushed them into the lock. A bolt of electricity ran up her arm and she tasted copper in her mouth.

Viviane woke up in a field of tall grass. Something was prodding her shoulder.  
“Miss? Miss, are you alright? Oh, dear-please don’t be dead!”  
She shook her head and blinked open her eyes. “Wh-where am I? What happened?”  
A man with dark sandy hair and kind dark blue eyes was bent over her. “Thank heavens! Are you alright?”  
Viviane groaned and sat up. “Oh, my head…” She heard twittering birds and the soft breeze through the grass. “Where am I?”  
The man blinked. “You’re in Hobbiton. The Shire.”  
“Shire?” she repeated faintly. Viviane looked around. Oh…yeah… Rolling green fields, a beautiful lake and, yep, there was the Party Tree. And the little doors set into the hills, surrounded by little gardens. She looked at the man- Hobbit- and tried to place him. “I’m sorry, who are you?”  
“Oh, Bilbo Baggins,” he said, holding out a hand.  
She took his hand. “Viviane Summers; nice to meet you.” Bilbo Baggins?!  
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Bilbo checked. “What happened to you?”  
“I’m not sure,” Viviane replied. She rubbed the back of her head. “Definitely knocked over the head. Or I took a tumble… I can’t really remember.”  
Bilbo nodded slowly. “Well, I live just up the Hill. You can…stay there for a bit. Until you’re up on your feet again.”  
As one, they looked at her feet. They were normal- thanking God- but Viviane had seemingly shrunk in her clothes. Her jeans, t-shirt, jacket and shoes were suddenly too big for her. Underneath the shirt, her bra was too big. Even her cap was big on her!  
She had been fun-sized. Great.  
“We can get you some clothes, too,” Bilbo added. He put Viviane’s arm around his neck and helped her to her feet. “Off we go, then.”


	2. Chapter 2

Bag End was a bloody dream come true. Viviane’s heart started racing when she saw the large green door. Bilbo helped her up the garden and into his Hobbit-Hole. “There’s a wash room at the very end of this hall,” he said. “Last door on your left. I’ll pop out and see if Linda Proudfoot has anything to loan you.”  
“Thank you, Master Baggins,” she remembered to say when he closed to door.  
Wow. She was in Bag End!  
Viviane walked to the wash room and found that the bathtub worked similarly to the one at home; knobs! “Excellent, Smithers,” she sighed and drew a bath. She stripped and sank into the water, sighing as it began to ease her battered body.  
After a quick soaking and scrubbing, Viviane wrapped herself in a robe and looked at her clothes. She could keep the jacket because they were always better when larger and the same could probably be said for the socks. The t-shirt could become a nightshirt. For some reason her underwear had shrunk with her, so that was something.  
But the jeans, shoes and bra were too big to even consider.  
Viviane heard the front door open and close and Bilbo shout, “Miss Summers?” He knocked on the wash room door. “Er, miss?”  
Quickly stowing her clothes behind her, Viviane said, “I’m decent, Mr Baggins.”  
The Hobbit peeked his head in. “Ah, yes. Linda Proudfoot is here with some dresses…” He was pushed out of the way by an elderly Hobbit woman with a large bundle in her arms.  
“Good gracious!” Linda Proudfoot gasped. “Oh poor dear; attacked on the Road and left with nothing but rags on your back! To think it would happen here in the Shire!”  
Viviane blushed. “I suppose it is very good that Mr Baggins found me when he did.”  
“Aye, that it is,” Linda agreed. “Excuse us, Bilbo, but I must help this poor dear.” She shut the wash room door in his face and then set her bundle on a chair and eyed Viviane with practiced eyes. Her eyebrows rose when she saw how small the girl’s feet was. “Not from around here, are you?”  
“No, ma’am,” Viviane admitted. “Not in the very least.”  
The Hobbit woman nodded slowly. “Well, as Hobbits, we don’t wear shoes- our feet are very thick- but you look like a dainty little flower. And, my, but what pretty hair you have! Almost like the snow has been caught there.”  
She was closer to the truth than anything.  
“Now, let me see the rest of you,” Linda said.  
Viviane had gone through this before when being fitted for costumes, but she was still shy. She hesitantly pulled off the robe and blushed. Linda nodded brusquely. “Well, you’re thinner than I am, but you’re also tall, so that should help a bit. Here; let’s try on this pretty pink dress.”  
After Linda had helped Viviane dress- Viviane slipped on her underwear when the Hobbit wasn’t looking- and the two went out into the parlor to better fit the dresses and for afternoon tea. Bilbo was a courteous host and made sure the teacups were never empty.  
It was well nearly twilight when Linda finally left with a promise to have her husband make Viviane a pair of little shoes. Before she left, she brought up the question, “Now what shall become of you, my dear? It would be a tad unseemly if you were to stay here with Bilbo alone.”  
Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Mrs Proudfoot, what do you suggest? You can hardly have her stay with you; your house is much too small with all of those young ones! No, if the lady will consent, Bag End is the place for her. Let the neighbor’s gossip!”  
Viviane smirked. “I’d have to agree with Mr Baggins. As long as I don’t put you out.”  
“Not at all! Not at all!”  
And it was decided.

Viviane had been living with Bilbo Baggins for nearly a whole month. She missed her home, her job and even school. But something deep inside her told her that that life was behind her and she ever had looked forward.  
Linda Proudfoot was a dear friend and neighbor and Hamfast Gamgee, or just Gaffer, was always making Viviane laugh. The whole of Hobbiton was exceedingly kind to her. Well, except for the Sackville-Baggins’s. They had tried to start the rumor that Viviane was Bilbo’s tart, but that had never taken any effect. Everyone was fond of Miss Viviane Summers; from the children to the elders, Took to Brandybuck and Baggins to Proudfoot.  
One day Viviane was in the kitchen, readying lunch while Bilbo sat outside in the front garden and smoked. Gaffer was outside the kitchen window trimming the roses and telling Viviane about his new wife, Bell.  
“Did you have anyone back wherever you came from, Miss Summers?” Gaffer asked her.  
Viviane laughed as she kneaded bread dough. “No, not me! I was much too engrossed in my job and…no one really caught my eye.” Well, Benedict Cumberbatch had caught her eye, but that would never have happened.  
“Ah,” Gaffer wheedled. “I’m sure you were breaking hearts, lassie! Look at you; as bright as the Sun and as beautiful as these here roses!”  
Viviane giggled. “Ah, Master Hamfast, I do envy your wife!”  
They laughed.  
“Will you eat with us or are you needed back home?” she asked.  
“No, I promised Bell I would help around the house, but I thank you, Miss Viviane.” He gave her a small bow and tottered off home.  
“Give my love to your family!” Viviane called after him. He waved to show that he heard. She finished the dough and popped it into the oven to bake and then readied the table. She was about to pop outside to get Bilbo, but the Hobbit was already through the door when she turned.  
“Oh, I was just about to call you. Lunch is…”  
“Shh!” Bilbo hissed, pressing his ear to the door.  
“What is it?” Viviane asked in a whisper.  
“A Wizard,” he replied quietly. “Trying to get me on an adventure. Can you imagine?”  
She couldn’t answer that without lying so she stayed quiet. She picked her way to the front window and peered out of it. A blue eye appeared there and she gasped. Bilbo pulled her away and they held each other until the Wizard was gone.  
“He’ll be back,” Bilbo muttered.  
“Oh?”  
“I invited him to dinner,” the Hobbit sighed.  
Viviane shrugged. “Well, at least you were polite.” She walked to the table and started serving lunch. “He’s a Wizard, you say?” she said nonchalantly.  
“Gandalf,” Bilbo said. “Made excellent fireworks. Bit strange.”  
“All great men are,” Viviane pointed out with a smile. “Well, here’s to an adventure free day.”  
“Here, here!”


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn’t until someone hammered on the front door right as they were about to dig into dinner did Bilbo and Viviane remember that Gandalf was coming. Viviane shot up and ran to the door. It was Gandalf! Of course she was excited. “I’m so sorry,” she said, turning the knob. “We completely forgot that you were…coming…”  
This wasn’t Gandalf.  
It was a Dwarf. A very mean looking Dwarf.  
Bilbo appeared beside Viviane. “Um… Can I help you?”  
“Yes, I suppose you can,” he grunted, walking in. “Dwalin, at your service.”  
“Bilbo Baggins at yours,” the Hobbit stuttered, closing the door. “Sorry, do I know you?”  
The Dwarf looked at him like he was crazy. “No.” He spotted the girl and bowed. “Dwalin, son of Fundin, miss. And you are?”  
“Viviane Summers,” she said automatically. “Um… Would you like something to eat?”  
“Very much, thank you.” He hanged his traveling cloak up and stomped through the house. “Nice quiet life you have here.”  
Bilbo and Viviane looked at each other. What was going on?  
They watched Dwalin finish up their own dinners. He didn’t have the refined table manners Bilbo did, or even the basic manners Viviane had had drilled into her. He picked the fish clean and then bit messily into the head.  
There was another knock at the door. Bilbo leapt up, saying, “At last you’ve come! I was beginning to think…”  
The pause was long enough to jerk Viviane away from Dwalin’s terrible manners. “Bilbo?”  
Another Dwarf walked in, dressed in red and sporting a perfect white beard. He smiled merrily at her and took her hand, bowing over it. “Balin, at your service my lady.”  
“Viviane Summers at yours, sir,” she said faintly.  
“Balin!” Dwalin shouted, getting up. His shout made Viviane jump away. The two Dwarves clasped arms and banged their heads together in welcome.  
“I’ll go make some more tea,” Viviane said softly and hurried to the kitchen. They followed her, but their destination was the pantry. Bilbo was on their heels, going on about how uninvited guests were not tolerated and doing his best to be polite.  
“I’m sorry,” he finished.  
Dwalin and Balin looked at him thru narrowed eyes. Viviane gripped the iron poker near the fireplace, ready to use her mediocre fencing skills and superb defense classes to protect Mr Baggins.  
“Apology accepted,” Balin said genially and went back to raiding the pantry.  
There was another knock and they all paused.  
“Someone going to get that?” Balin asked.  
Viviane put the poker back, left the tea pot on the table and went to answer the door. “Please be Gandalf, please be Gandalf, please be Gandalf,” she chanted under her breath.  
It wasn’t. It was two more Dwarves.  
“Hullo!” the blonde one said. “Fili.”  
“And Kili,” the dark one added.  
“At your service!” they chimed, taking Viviane’s hands and kissing them.  
“Nope, sorry!” she said, trying to close the door. “You can’t come in; you’ve come to the wrong house!”  
The darker Dwarf stopped her attempts to close the door. “Has it been cancelled?”  
“Nobody told us,” Fili added.  
“Nothing’s been cancelled,” Viviane began.  
“That’s a relief,” Kili said and he and his brother strode inside.  
“Viviane?” Bilbo walked in and froze. “Oh no…”  
“You must be Mister Baggins!” Kili said with a smile. “This is a nice place. Did you do it yourself?”  
“It’s been in the family for quite some time,” Bilbo replied as Fili loaded his arms with their weapons. “That’s my mother’s glory box! Can you please not do that!”  
“Fili! Kili!” Dwalin stuck his head in and waved them inside. “Come on; give us a hand!”  
Viviane followed the Dwarves into the dining room.  
“Let’s shove this into the hall,” Balin said, gesturing to the table. “Otherwise we won’t get everyone in!”  
“Everyone?” Viviane repeated. “How many more are there?”  
The doorbell rang.  
“Oh no,” Bilbo said flatly. He dumped the weapons in a pile and shouted. “No, there’s nobody home! Go away and bother somebody else! There’s far too many Dwarves in my dining room as it is! If this is some clot-head’s idea of a joke- ha, ha- I can only say that it is in very poor taste!”  
Viviane heard the door open and the sound of a lot of bodies hitting the floor. She fought hard against a smile. “Bilbo? How many more?”  
“A lot,” came the sad reply. “And Gandalf’s here.”  
Viviane poked my head into the hallway and saw eight Dwarves lying on the front stoop. And Gandalf chuckling in the doorway. Wow. Gandalf. “This is going to be a long night.”  
The Dwarves looked up and smiled when they saw her. Viviane had to smile back; they looked too ridicules! They got up, dusted themselves off and rushed to bow and kiss her hands.  
“Oin. At your service!” A salt-and-pepper beard with twin braids twirled up and an ear-horn.  
“Gloin, fair lady!” A red-head with a bushy beard with several rings pulled into it.  
“Dori, my lady!” Silver hair with fantastic braids.  
“Nori, marm.” Brown hair in the shape of a star.  
“Ori, miss. A pleasure.” Rather monk like and easily the most polite.  
The fattest Dwarf waddled up to Viviane, his long, big, braided red beard swaying from side to side. “Bombur, at your service! My brother, Bofur, and cousin Bifur. He doesn’t speak the Common Tongue.”  
Bifur nodded and said something to Viviane in Dwarvish. He had a bit of an ax sticking out of his forehead. Okay…  
Bofur swept her a very comical court bow with his funny hat and kissed her dead hand. “At your service, dear lady!” His black hair reminded her of Pippi Longstocking and he had a low handlebar mustache. Overall, he was adorable.  
“And I at all of yours,” she chuckled.  
“Alright, alright,” Gandalf said. “Stop crowding the young lady! Go help set up for dinner!” The Dwarves went into the kitchen and dining room, Bofur giving Viviane a friendly wink, and the Wizard came up to her. His piercing blue eyes took the girl in slowly and sternly. She stood there like the awkward girl she was. “You are not at all what I imagined you to be,” he said at last.  
Viviane blinked. “I’m sorry?”  
“When I called for you, I thought you would be a bit…taller,” the Wizard said.  
She looked down briefly at herself. “This isn’t my full height. Wait-you called me? How did you-why did… Argh! Headache!”  
Gandalf merely chuckled. “This Company is of thirteen Dwarves, a Hobbit and an old man. We will be needing you before the end.”  
Viviane raised an eyebrow. “And the Wisest declares women the brightest? I knew you were awesome the moment I first heard about you.”  
Flattery got a girl everywhere, even with a Wizard.


	4. Chapter 4

Once Bilbo had changed into a shirt, trousers and suspenders and Viviane out of her dressing gown and into a dusky lilac dress did things get hectic. The Dwarves were raiding the pantry and wine cellar. Poor Bilbo was beside himself. Viviane could only watch with wide eyes as twelve Dwarves paraded past her time and time again from the pantry to the large dining table.  
“Excuse me, missy,” Gloin said as he and his brother stomped past her with two chairs. Viviane scrambled to press herself against the wall, but was still buffeted aside like a pesky fly.  
She tripped over the black flats Mr Proudfoot had made for her and would have fallen had strong arms not caught her in a dip that was both romantic and comedic.  
“Good catch, Bofur!”  
The Dwarf with the hat grinned boyishly as he set Viviane upright. “Might be safer to adjourn to the table, Miss Viviane. Don’t fancy the thought of ye being toe jam.”  
Viviane peeked into the dining room and found the table crowded under every bit of food Bilbo had and a few of the Dwarves already digging in with horrible manners. If Dwalin had been lacking, she could just imagine what twelve Dwarves and a Wizard would be like. Plus she was already feeling claustrophobic.  
“I think I’ll go to the parlor, instead,” Viviane said a bit faintly.  
“We’re not all that bad, miss,” Bofur said, a bit disappointed.  
Viviane blinked in surprise. “I didn’t mean it like that!” she gasped. “I just… It’s crowd. Excuse me.” She pulled away from him, only then just realizing that he still had his arms around her, and hurried into the parlor where she took a deep breath and settled on the floor with a cup of tea and a book of gardening Master Hamfast had lent her the previous morning.  
“Charming girl,” Balin observed.  
“Aye,” Gloin agreed.  
“She your wife?” Nori asked Bilbo.  
The poor Hobbit spluttered. “No, of course not! She was injured and alone on the Road. Viviane is my ward.”  
“So she ain’t got any fellow,” Nori checked, eyes shifting to the slight girl alone in the parlor.  
Both Bilbo and Bofur looked ready to lunge at the Dwarf. Dori frowned at his brother. “Nori, behave yerself! Mister Baggins and Miss Summers have been gracious to open their home to us.”

“I don’t understand what they’re doing in my house!” Bilbo was one act away from a total nervous breakdown.  
“Excuse me,” Ori said. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?”  
“Here ya go, Ori,” Fili said. “Give it to me.” He threw it past Gandalf’s nose at Kili, who caught it and then Frisbee-ed it at Bifur in the kitchen.  
“Excuse me!” Bilbo shouted. “That’s my mother’s best West Farthing china; it’s over a hundred years old! And can you not do that! You’ll blunt them!”  
“Ooh, ya hear that lads?” Bofur chuckled as he, Gloin, Nori and Dori played with the kitchen knives. “He says we’ll blunt the knives!”  
Blunt the knives, bend the forks  
Smash the bottles and burn the corks  
Chip the glasses and crack the plates  
That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!  
Viviane came in from the parlor to see what the ruckus was about this time…and narrowly missed getting a fork between the eyes. She gasped and ducked as two mugs and four plates soured over her head. “In the name of…”  
Cut the cloth and tread on the fat  
Leave the bones on the bedroom mat  
Pour the milk on the pantry floor  
the wine on every door!  
“What yerself, lassie!” A carving knife missed her chest as Bofur pulled her into his lap. “Whew! That would’ve been messy!”  
Viviane had to smile. “Indeed.”  
Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl  
Pound them up with a thumping pole  
When you've finished, if any are whole  
Send them down the hall to roll!  
That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!  
They laughed at Bilbo’s expression that the dishes were completely done and not a thing had been cracked. Or blunted.  
Someone knocked heavily on the door, silencing them all.  
“He is here,” Gandalf said, a bit ominously.  
It was another Dwarf, but this one was different than the rest. He held himself with a regal air and his voice was a deep rumble. Obviously a highborn. And very majestic. “Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way twice. Wouldn’t have found it at all if it weren’t for that mark on the door.”  
“Mark?” Bilbo said. “There’s no mark on that door; it was painted a week ago!”  
Gandalf quickly shut the door. “There is a mark. I put it there myself.” He cleared his throat. “Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our Company, Thorin Oakensheild.”  
Thorin looked Bilbo up and down. “So…this is the Hobbit. Tell me, Master Baggins, have you done much fighting?”  
“Pardon me,” Bilbo stuttered.  
“Ax or sword?” Thorin continued. “What’s your weapon of choice?”  
“Well, if you must know, I do have some skill at conkers,” Bilbo joked. “But I don’t see why that should be relevant.”  
“Thought as much,” Thorin snorted. “He looks more like a grocer than a burglar.”  
The other Dwarves and Gandalf chuckled. Thorin turned his attention onto Viviane and his grey eyes narrowed. “You must be the woman Gandalf told me about.”  
Viviane said nothing, but continued to stare at him.  
Thorin raised an eyebrow. “And what is your weapon of choice, madam?”  
“Do I look like a fighter?” she replied right off.  
Thorin smirked. “No. So why are you here?”  
She scowled and folded her arms. “I live here.”  
“She is my ward,” Bilbo piped up, coming to stand beside the white-haired girl. Thorin just smirked and moved into the dining room with the other Dwarves.  
Viviane’s eyes tracked with and her lip curled in disdain. “That,” she said, “is their leader?”  
Gandalf cleared his throat. “My dear, perhaps you should avoid Thorin for the time being.”  
Viviane tossed her white hair over her shoulder and stuck her nose in the air with a haughty ‘Hmph’!

“What news of the meeting in Ered Luin?” Balin asked. “Did they all come?”  
“Aye,” Thorin answered. “Envoys from all seven kingdoms.”  
There were murmurs of glee from the others.  
What do the Dwarves of the Iron Hills say?” Dwalin asked. “Is Dain with us?”  
Thorin hesitated. “They will not come. They say that this task is ours and ours alone.”  
Bilbo peeked over Gandalf’s shoulder. “You’re going on a quest?”  
Gandalf cleared his throat. “Bilbo, my lad, let us have a little more light.” He pulled out a scrap of paper and unfolded it to reveal a map. “Far to the East, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands lies a single, solitary peak.”  
Bilbo set and candle and read, “The Lonely Mountain.”  
“Aye,” Gloin said. “Oin has read the portents and the portents say it is time!”  
“Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain, as it was foretold,” Oin grumbled. “When the birds of yore return to Erebor the reign of the beast will end!”  
Beast?  
“What beast?” Bilbo asked.  
“Oh, that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible,” Bofur said. “Chiefest and Greatest Calamity of our age. Air-borne fire-breather, claws like meat hooks, teeth like razors… Especially fond of precious metals.”  
“Yes, I know what a dragon is,” Bilbo retorted.  
“I’m not afraid!” Ori declared boldly, getting to his feet. “I’m up for it! I’ll give him a taste of Dwarvish-metal right up his jacksy!”  
Viviane laughed and they all realized that she was there.  
Ori blushed and hung his head as he sat down. “Sorry, m’lady.”  
She waved him off. “Trust me; I’ve heard worse. Said worse, too, actually.”  
“You all forget,” Kili said, “that we have a Wizard on our side! Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time.”  
Gandalf went red. “Well, uh, no…”  
“How many then?” Dori asked.  
“What?”  
“How many dragons have you killed?”  
All eyes were on the Wizard, who started to choke slightly on his pipe weed. Sensing that she was needed, Viviane feigned a delicate sneeze.  
“Bless you, miss,” the Dwarves chimed, each one- excluding Thorin- pulling out a handkerchief.  
“Thank you,” she murmured, pulling out her own and dabbing at her nose. She gave Gandalf a small wink and he nodded in gratitude.  
The task would be difficult with an army behind us,” Balin said. “But we number just thirteen. And not thirteen of the best. Nor brightest.”  
“Hey, who you calling dim?!” “Sorry, what did he say?” “I ain’t stupid!”  
Viviane winced at the sound of multiple Dwarves shouting all at once and shrank back into the hall, the beginnings of a headache creeping up on her.  
“No more!” Thorin’s voice boomed through the Hobbit-hole, effectively ending the contention. “If we have read these signs, do you not think others would have read them, too? Rumors have begun to spread; the dragon Smaug has not been seen in nearly sixty years. Eyes look East to the mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?!”  
The Dwarves cheered, but Balin interrupted again. “You forget; the front gate is sealed! There is no way into the mountain.”  
Viviane walked back in, this time behind Gandalf, and listened as the Wizard said, “That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true.” He produced an iron key out of midair.  
Thorin stared, entranced. “How came you by this?”  
“It was given to me by your father. By Thrain. For safe keeping. It is yours now.”  
Thorin took the key with reverence, emotions warring behind his pale eyes.  
“You can’t honestly expect to enter a dragon-infested mountain by the front door,” Viviane piped up, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms. “You’d be ashes before you took your seventh step.”  
“What would you know of it, girl?” Thorin barked.  
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Things in life are seldom that easy, Master Dwarf.”  
“And you are quite right, my dear,” Gandalf cut across a sharp retort from Thorin. “These runes here speak of a secret passage to the lower halls. That is what the key is for.”  
“Makes more sense,” Viviane admitted. “But Dwarf doors are invisible when closed, yes?”  
“Aye,” Dwalin agreed. “They are.”  
Bringing up semi-extensive knowledge of the Tolkien-verse, Viviane said, “So… ‘speak friend and enter’?”  
Gandalf chuckled. “No, my dear. The answer lies somewhere in this map and I do not have the skill to find it, but there are others in Middle-Earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth and no small amount of courage.” He glanced at Bilbo before continuing. “But if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done.”  
“That’s why we need a burglar,” Ori said.  
“Hm, a good one, too,” Bilbo said, peering at the map. “An expert, I imagine.”  
“And are you?” Gloin asked.  
Bilbo blinked. “Am I what?”  
“He says he’s an expert!” deaf-Oin cheered.  
“Me?!” Bilbo gasped. “No. No, no, no, no! I’m not a burglar! I’ve never stolen a thing in my life!”  
“I’d have to agree with Mister Baggins,” Balin said. “He’s hardly burglar material.”  
“Aye,” Dwalin growled, “The Wild is no place for Gentle Folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves.”  
The Dwarves started shouting again. Viviane rubbed her head as the headache flared behind her eyes.  
“ENOUGH!” The Grey Wizard was suddenly on his feet. The candles dimmed and the whole of Bag End seemed to rumble under the Wizard’s ire. “IF I SAY BILBO BAGGINS IS A BURGLAR, THEN A BURGLAR HE IS!”  
The Dwarves cowered before him, realizing that they should probably keep from annoying the Wizard as much as possible.  
“Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet,” Gandalf said, more calmly. “In fact, they can pass unseen by most, if they choose. And, while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of Dwarf, the scent of a Hobbit is all by unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage.” He sat back down and looked to Thorin. “You asked me to find the fourteenth member of your Company and I have chosen Mister Baggins. There is a lot more to him than appearances suggest. And he’s got a lot more to offer than any of you know. Including himself.” He looked hard at Thorin. “You must trust me on this.”  
It was admirable how much faith he put in Bilbo. Admirable, bordering on insanity.  
Thorin sighed. “Very well. We’ll do it your way. Give him the contract.”  
Balin pulled out a thick piece of paper. “It’s just the usual. Time required, remuneration… Funeral arrangements. So forth.”  
Bilbo took the contract with a jolt. “Funeral arrangements?!”  
Thorin stood up and whispered in Gandalf’s ear, “I cannot guarantee his safety.”  
“Understood.”  
“Nor will I be responsible for his fate.”  
Viviane’s spine stiffened, but kept her lips pressed firmly together.  
“Agreed,” Gandalf sighed.  
“And what about Miss Summers?” Bofur asked. The Dwarf had not taken his eyes off of her yet.  
“Yes,” she agreed slowly. “What is my part in all of this, Gandalf?”  
“Well, it is obvious,” the Wizard said. “Two burglars are better than one.”  
Viviane raised a perfect eyebrow and her blue eyes widened. “Me? A burglar? I do believe that pipe weed has gone to your head.”  
“Ah, you’ll do fine, miss,” Kili piped up.  
Viviane frowned. “Gandalf…”  
“Well, what about Dragon Enchanter?”  
To that, Viviane threw back her head and laughed. “Dragon Enchanter?! Truly, Mithrandir, i think you are taking this a bit too far.”  
The Wizard merely smiled. “Ah, but you have a weapon that all dragons are slaves to.”  
The Dwarves looked at her, slightly impressed. “What is it?” “Some sort of magic?” “A great sword?”  
Viviane’s amusement fled and her expression turned flat. “You can’t be serious.”  
“As serious as the grave,” Gandalf said. “You can do it, Viviane.”  
Viviane stared at him. Could she really do it? The whole thing sounded preposterous. But to travel Middle-Earth… To see wonders as only Tolkien had seen… This was as close to the Professor as she could get and it seemed almost sacrilegious to decline such an offer.  
“Very well,” she murmured. “Dragon Enchanter or whatever it is.”  
“ ‘Terms: cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding 1/14th of total profit, if any’,” Bilbo read out the contract. “Hm, seems fair. ‘Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof, including but not limited to lacerations…”  
Viviane looked up.  
“Evisceration,” the Hobbit squeaked. Viviane blanched. Ew… “Incineration?”  
“Oh, aye,” Bofur said. “He’ll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye.”  
Bilbo whimpered.  
“You alright, laddie?” Balin checked.  
“Yeah, I-I-I feel a bit faint.”  
Bofur blinked. “Think furnace with wings.”  
“Air, I need air…”  
“Flash of light, searing pain, then poof! You’re nothing but a pile of ash!”  
Bilbo took a few deep breathes through his nose and straightened. “Nope.” He collapsed in a dead faint.  
Viviane sighed and pushed away from the wall. “Very helpful, Master Dwarf,” she lightly scolded.  
Bofur turned bashful. “I only meant to help. He asked me a question and I have to answer.”  
Viviane heaved Bilbo upright and slung one of his arms over her shoulders. “Well then, you can help me get him to his armchair.” Her clear blue eyes gazed expectantly at the Dwarf, who leapt at the opportunity to be of service to her.  
To Bofur, this girl was a treasure; a diamond in the rough. Her eyes captivated him, her hair intrigued him, her voice hypnotized him and the way she held her left hand and hardly seemed to use it made him wonder if she was hurt in some way. And that made him want to be of service to her.  
They set Bilbo down in his armchair and Viviane started patting his cheek sharply. “Bilbo? Bilbo. Hey! Wake up; it’s time for second breakfast.”  
“What about first breakfast?” the Hobbit mumbled as he came to.  
Bofur laughed. “Effective, lass!” He clapped Viviane on the back and she nearly toppled into Bilbo’s lap.  
She cleared her throat and straightened up. “I’ll bring you some tea.” She walked into the kitchen and began to refill the teapot with a wonderful herbal tea Bell Gamgee had gifted her. When she turned around, she smacked into Bofur’s chest. “Oh!”  
Bofur grabbed her arms to steady her. “Sorry, miss! Only came to help ye.”  
Viviane blushed and stepped around him. “Thank you, but I can manage.”  
Bofur watched her place the kettle over the fire and stoke the embers. She looked strangely out of place, like she belonged in a Hobbit-hole as less than he did. Her snow-white hair was long and bound back with a strip of leather. The dress she wore looked too big for her, like it had belonged to an older Hobbit-lass and not a short, fair maiden.  
Viviane blushed under his gaze. “Do you not have something else to occupy your time rather than stare at me?”  
“Nothing as entertaining,” he said honestly and then kicked himself. He really needed to work on keeping his mouth shut.  
Viviane blushed a darker shade of pink and avoided his gaze. “Bet you say that to all the girls.”  
“Not really,” he admitted.

After Viviane had made the tea, she poured it into two mugs and took one to Bilbo, who was speaking with Gandalf. She took the other one for herself and decided that it was finally time for bed. She bade the Dwarves goodnight and they all kissed her hands and bowed to her again.  
She went into her room and sat in bed, thinking of what she could do as a Dragon Enchanter. What on earth did a Dragon Enchanter do? How could one enchant a dragon? She was no Wizard, only a girl with hardly any knowledge of the outside world. She only knew the repetition of her life; first in London and then in Hobbiton.  
She fell asleep to the sound of Dwarves singing a melancholy tune…  
Far over the Misty Mountains cold  
To dungeons deep and caverns old  
We must away ere break of day  
To seek the pale enchanted gold.

The Dwarves of yore made mighty spells,  
While hammers fell like ringing bells  
In places deep, where dark things sleep,  
In hallow halls beneath the fells.

For ancient king and Elven lord  
There many a gleaming golden hoard  
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught  
To hide in gems on hilt of sword.

On silver necklaces they strung  
The flowering stars, on crowns they hung  
The dragon-fire, in twisted wire  
They meshed the light of moon and sun.

Far over the Misty Mountains cold  
To dungeons deep and caverns old  
We must away ere break of day  
To claim our long-forgotten gold.

Goblets they carved there for themselves  
And harps of gold; where no man delves  
There lay they long, and many a song  
Was sung unheard by Men or Elves.

The pines were roaring on the height,  
The winds were moaning in the night.  
The fire was red, it flaming spread;  
The trees like torches blazed with light.

The bells were ringing in the dale  
And Men looked up with faces pale;  
Then dragon’s ire more fierce than fire  
Laid low their towers and houses frail.

The mountain smoked beneath the moon;  
The Dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom.  
They fled their hall to dying fall  
Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.

Far over the Misty Mountains grim  
To dungeons deep and caverns dim  
We must away, ere break of day,  
To win our harps and gold from him!


	5. Chapter 5

Bilbo and Viviane walked through Bag End in the morning. The Dwarves were gone. There wasn’t a sign that they had ever been there. The pantry was restocked, the floor and rooms cleaned and everything put in their rightful place.  
“Was it all a dream?” Viviane asked, looking at the spot where Bofur had been sitting in the dining room. If it had been, she felt like she was going to cry.  
“One we both had?” Bilbo asked. “Unlikely.” He stopped by the armchair by the fireplace and picked something up; two contracts. The Hobbit looked at Viviane, uncertainty in his eyes.  
Viviane held up one hand. “The calm, peaceful life of a respectable Hobbit.” She held up her other hand. “Or the adventure of a lifetime?”  
It was a no-brainer.

Bilbo slammed the door shut, locked it and the two were pelting down Bag Shot Row, dressed to travel and Bilbo holding his signed contract. “This has to be the craziest thing I’ve ever done!” the Hobbit shouted excitedly as they cut across a pasture.  
Viviane laughed. “I have a feeling it won’t be the last!” She leapt over a fence like a professional with the Hobbit hot on her heels.  
“’Ere! Mister Bilbo! Where’re you off to?”  
“Can’t stop, we’re already late!” Bilbo called.  
“Late for what?”  
“We’re going on an adventure!”

“Well, that was a complete waste of time,” Gloin grumbled.  
“That’s true enough!” Dori agreed.  
The Dwarves were on ponies making their way through Eastfarthing Woods. Thorin rode at the front, naturally, with Gandalf on a brown horse.  
“Oh, I dunno,” Bofur mused, filling his pipe. “We got an excellent meal out of it. Not to mention met a lovely lass.”  
“I think you fancied Miss Summers, brother,” Bombur teased.  
Bofur rolled his eyes and hid his blush expertly. “I’m just saying she’s a bright lass. A bit shy, but she is living with Hobbits.”  
“Aye,” Oin said, “but ye could hardly take yer eyes off o’ her!”  
“Wait! Wait!”  
“Hold your horses!”  
The Dwarves halted and looked around. Bilbo was running towards them, waving his contract around. Viviane was right behind him. When she saw that they had stopped, she slowed to a stop and leaned against a tree, gasping for breath.  
“We signed them!” Bilbo said triumphantly. He handed his contract up to Balin. The old Dwarf took out a reading glass and looked over the signatures.  
“Well, everything seems to be in order,” Balin said. “Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakensheild.”  
“What of the girl?” Dwalin growled.  
Clutching at a stitch in her side, Viviane stepped forward. “Yeah, yeah. Here it is. Whew. I don’t think I’ve ever run that far that fast before.”  
“Well,” Thorin said, looking only slightly put out. “You’re sure to gain experience now. Welcome to the Company, Miss Summers. Give Master Baggins a pony. Miss Summers can ride with someone.”  
Bofur immediately reached a hand down. “If you’ll permit…”  
Bifur was already helping the lady onto his own horse. The crazed Dwarf shot his dear cousin a smug look and Bofur had to hide his displeasure with difficulty. Viviane had never been on a horse, save for the little pony rides at the fairs her parents had taken her to. She hated being put into an awkward situation, but the warm, slightly dazed smile Bifur gave her was enough to calm her.

“So, lass,” Oin said, sticking his ear horn in his ear. “Tell us about yerself.”  
Viviane looked askance at him. “What do you want to know?”  
“What race are you?” Kili blurted out, effectively earning himself a bop over the head by his brother. “Ow! What?”  
“I’m human,” Viviane said.  
“But your so…short,” Bombur said a bot apologetically.  
Viviane glanced at Gandalf. “I’ve been travel-sized for your convenience.”  
The Dwarves roared with laughter. Even Thorin chuckled.  
As they passed under a blossoming tree, Bofur reached up in his saddle and plucked a bloom. He then leaned over and tucked it behind Viviane’s ear. “There,” he said. “Utter perfection.”  
Viviane blushed, but smiled all the same.  
Bifur muttered something in a language that Viviane couldn’t understand. “What was that?”  
“Ah, he said flowers are stupid,” Bofur translated. “Don’t mind him, lass, he’s been grumpy ever since an Orc got its ax stuck in his thick skull. Hasn’t been able to speak naught by Khuzdul and Iglishmêk since.”  
“Iglishmêk?” Viviane repeated, uncertain of the term.  
Bifur lifted his hands and it looked like sign language. “Iglishmêk is how we sign things,” Bofur explained. “Khuzdul is the language of Dwarves.”  
Bifur repeated his sign. Bofur chuckled. “He says you’re squeezing his ribs.”  
Viviane immediately dropped her arms from around the Dwarf’s waist. “Sorry. Horses aren’t my thing.”  
“Have ye never ridden one before, lass?” Bofur asked.  
“No,” Viviane admitted. “Where I’m from, horses are usually just pets.”  
“Then how do you get around?” Fili asked.  
Viviane gave them the same answer she had given Bilbo her first week with him. “My world is made up of machines and technology. Everything’s grey and cold. Not like here.”  
“Sounds like a strange way to live,” Bofur mused.  
“Yes,” Viviane agreed softly. “If you can call it living.”

When they camped for the night, the Dwarves insisted on doing everything. They wouldn’t allow Viviane to lift a finger, something she found both aggravating and sweet. Aggravating because she was so used to doing things herself, sweet because they already cared for her.  
Plus, it came as a relief that she could lie down after sitting for so many hours.  
“At least let me help with supper,” she pressed.  
Bombur looked torn. He was the cook and guarded his profession well, but the look the lass was giving him could melt a heart of stone. “Well… It would help if you chopped the meat…”  
Viviane pulled her hair back and rolled up her sleeves. She and Bombur worked together, chopping, pulling, cracking and stirring the stew. It wasn’t long before the dulcet aroma of a finely cooked meal was teasing their noses.  
“Mm!” was all the Dwarves could say. Bilbo was too busy stuffing his face.  
“I think we found another job for you, Miss Summers,” Balin praised.  
Viviane smiled. “You should taste the bread I make. Everyone loves it.”  
“They did,” Bilbo mumbled. “Ate every single of those five loafs you made last morning.”  
“You mean those butter-tasting ones?” Bombur asked. “You made those?”  
“Mhm,” she said, sipping the sauce. “It’s my specialty. Used to make a hundred a day at the bakery I worked at.”  
Bombur stared at her. “I think you’re my new favorite.”  
They all laughed.

Most of the Company were asleep an hour after supper. Viviane was one of them, taking her bed roll a bit away from the others for privacy’s sake. The stars were shining, but the moon was hidden behind a cloud.  
Bofur looked up as the clouds cleared and the full moon illuminated the camp with a silver-blue glow. His heart nearly stopped. “Lads…”  
Viviane was bathed in moonlight; her white hair nearly glowing as she slept. Her face was pure peace and it made their hearts swell. One arm was tucked behind her head and the other resting just below her breasts. She was twisted strangely; her lower half on one side with her upper half on her back. She looked like a cat.  
Ori quickly whipped out his notebook and started sketching, his tongue between his teeth as he concentrated. Fili and Kili had their jaws gaping and Bifur was eyeing them with amusement. Thorin rolled his eyes and went to bed. Gandalf smirked and continued smoking his pipe.  
When he went to bed, Bofur had dreams of a moonlit beauty. He smiled all through the night.


	6. Chapter 6

Bofur woke up to the sound of sizzling sausage. He sat up, rubbing his neck, and saw Viviane helping Bombur with breakfast. The girl was stirring the porridge, her hair pulled back in a messy knot.  
“…and now I put in the berries, yes?” she was asking.  
Bombur nodded. “Don’t put them it all at once. Just every so often.”  
Viviane picked up a bowl of freshly-picked blackberries and carefully dropped them into the porridge. As if sensing his eyes on her, she looked up at Bofur. “Would you mind rousing everyone else?”  
Bofur nodded and then slapped his pillow over Fili and Kili’s head. “Waking up, masters!” he crowed. “Breakfast is ready!” Fili and Kili groaned and started grumbling at him.  
Viviane got up, dusted off her legs and then walked over with two bowls for Thorin and Gandalf in her good hand. Both were still sleeping, but as she approached, Thorin opened one eye. “Breakfast,” she said, holding a bowl out to him.  
The Dwarf-prince took the bowl and nodded. “Thank you.”  
Viviane turned to Gandalf and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Waking up, Mr Wizard.”  
He blinked his eyes awake and looked blurrily at her. “Ah, Miss Summers. Oh! Blackberry porridge! How exceedingly kind of you.” He took the bowl and then noticed how limp her left hand was. “Are you alright…” He made to touch her, but she jerked her whole arm behind her back.  
“Fine,” she said quickly. “Absolutely fine.” She turned and walked quickly away.

It was raining.  
Viviane sat behind Bofur, her cape pulled around her like a blanket and her hood pulled all the way up. But she was still shivering. Bofur glanced back at her with concern. “You alright, Viviane?”  
“I don’t like the cold,” she murmured.  
Bofur reined his pony to a halt and then dismounted. He scooted Viviane to the front of the saddle and then climbed up behind her. He wrapped his cloak around both of them and continued walking with the others. “There. How’s that?”  
Viviane bundled herself up and cuddled against his chest, making his heart skip a few beats. “Thanks, Bofur.”  
He smiled. “Anything I can do fer a pretty lady.”

The rain stopped after a few hours. They all let out cries of relief as the warm summer sun came out and began drying them. Viviane had dozed off in Bofur’s arms, but she woke up when the sun’s rays touched her pale face.  
“Have a good nap?” Bofur asked cheerfully, storing their cloaks in the saddlebags.  
“Yes,” she replied. “Didn’t seem to be much else to do.”  
“Why don’t you tell us more about that weapon Gandalf said you had,” Gloin suggested.  
“What weapon could a girl have that could take down a dragon?” Dwalin asked. He probably didn’t mean to sound like a sexist pig, but Viviane still scowled in his direction.  
“Weapons come in all shapes and sizes,” Gandalf called over his shoulder. “I simply referred to Miss Summer’s voice.”  
Bofur could feel Viviane shrink in his arms. “You can sing?”  
“Not really,” she grumbled, red as a tomato.  
“We’ll camp here for the night!” Thorin’s voice called over to them. “Fili, Kili; look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them. “  
Bofur dismounted and held his arms up to help Viviane slide down. She gripped his biceps and hopped down, a little too close to him than she would have liked. He smiled charmingly at her, oblivious to the stirring emotions she felt. She tried to step back, but only ran into the pony.  
“Oin, Gloin; get a fire going.”  
“I should help your brother,” Viviane whispered.  
“Okay,” Bofur said, his chest tightening. She was so beautiful…  
Viviane slipped out of his embrace and followed after Gandalf. Bofur cursed under his breath and unsaddled the pony. What was he thinking?  
“Zu bulurul dhi,” Bifur stated (You like her).  
“Aye, who wouldn’t?” Bofur said.  
Bifur shook his head. “Zu bulurul dhi.”  
“Aw, shut it,” Bofur scoffed. “Just want her to feel part of the Company, is all. Besides, you were chatting away at her all day yesterday like some lovesick puppy.”  
“Iz mabak en zega uzayung-zum.” (I’m not the one lovesick).  
Bofur rolled his eyes merrily, but in his head, for once, he pondered what his cousin had said. Could he be in love with the snow-haired girl? Dwarves only loved once and even that was a rare thing. Out of the whole Company, only Gloin and Bombur were married. Gloin had one son and Bombur had eight dwarrowlings prancing around their house in Ered Luin.  
Bofur had never really thought of finding a lass. He had barely even visited the brothels. When a Dwarf was tied up in his work hardly anything could be done to drag him away from it. No woman had ever caught Bofur’s eye like that. Had it finally happened?

“A farmer and his family used to live here,” Gandalf murmured, inspecting the ruined house with grave eyes. “I think it would be wiser to move on,” he added to Thorin. “We can make for the Hidden Valley.”  
Viviane perked up. “Rivendell?”  
Thorin turned sour. “I’ve already told you; we will not go near that place.”  
“Why not?” Gandalf demanded. “The Elves will help us. We could get food, rest, advice.”  
“What advice would we seek of the Elves?” Thorin scoffed.  
“We have a map that we cannot read,” Viviane put in from her place by the destroyed hearth. “Lord Elrond might be able to read it.”  
Thorin scoffed again. “A dragon attacks Erebor; what help came from the Elves then? You are asking me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather. Betrayed my father.”  
“You are neither of them,” Gandalf said. “I did not give you that map and key so you could hold onto the past!”  
“I did not know they were yours to give,” Thorin retorted.  
Gandalf turned on his heel and stalked away.  
“Gandalf, where are you going?” Viviane called after him.  
“To seek the company of the one who’s got any sense.”  
“And who is that?”  
“Myself, Miss Summers! I’ve had enough of Dwarves for one day!”  
Viviane looked at Thorin. “Well, there goes our Wizard. I hope you’re proud of yourself. We are so screwed.”  
Thorin narrowed his eyes at her. “What’s wrong with your hand?”  
Viviane turned pink. “Nothing…”  
Thorin made to grab it, but she reeled backwards and tripped over a beam, landing hard on her back. She stood back up with a growl and stalked off. “Bloody Dwarves!”

Bofur walked over to the spot where Viviane was sitting a good ten yards from the rest of the group. “Miss Viviane? I brought ye some soup.” He held the bowl out to her.  
She took it. “Thank you.”  
“Don’t worry yerself about Thorin,” Bofur continued cheerfully. “He’s a prince; they all think themselves above us. Why, when Bombur, Bifur an’ me joined this Company, he thought we were crazy. Everyone else is somehow descended from the line of Durin. Us; we’re from and different clan.”  
Viviane’s lips twitched into a smile. “He thinks my hand is hurt.”  
“Is it?”  
She didn’t respond.  
“Lass,” Bofur said gently, sitting next to her. “If you’re hurt, ya need to let us know. Any injury could fester an’ in the Wild, tha’s dangerous.”  
Viviane looked sideways at him. “It’s an old hurt,” she confessed in a whisper. She lifted her dead hand. “When I was younger, I was in a bad accident. I was trapped in snow for a long time and frostbite killed the nerves in my hand. I’ve learned to live with it, but…” She frowned. “When people find out, they tend to say the wrong things.”  
Bofur took her hand in both of his and she suddenly wished that she could feel the warmth that his flesh was surely giving off. “I’m sorry if this is the wrong thing to say,” he said quietly, “but you shouldn’t hide your scars. It’s what defines us, in some ways.” He kissed her knuckles and it almost made her cry.  
“Thank you, Bofur,” she said. “And not just for the soup.”  
Bofur winked. “Whatever ya need, Miss Viviane. I’m at yer service, ya know.”  
Viviane smiled and sipped her supper. Maybe, just maybe, this journey wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.  
“Uncle! Uncle!” Fili came pelting out of the forest, looking like hoard of angry bees were chasing him.  
Bofur and Viviane returned to the camp to hear the young Dwarf shout, “Trolls!”  
Thorin was on his feet in an instant. “How many?”  
“Three,” Fili gasped.  
“Where are Kili and Master Baggins?”  
“Bilbo is trying to save the ponies they stole,” Fili said. “Kili is watching…”  
“And whose idea was it to make Bilbo go off on his own?” Viviane demanded.  
Fili stuttered to a halt.  
“Miss Summers, you stay here,” Thorin commanded. “Everyone else, let’s go save the Hobbit.”  
“Wait, why am I staying behind?” Viviane demanded.  
“Can you fight?” Thorin asked.  
“No, but…”  
“You stay. Bofur, come on!”  
Bofur chewed on his mustache. “Sorry, lass.” He picked up his mattock and ran after his kin.  
Viviane snarled and sat down in a huff.


	7. Chapter 7

The Dwarves had been gone for too long.  
Viviane paced from one end of the camp to the next, her left eyebrow ticking as it did when she was under pressure. “Oh, bullocks,” she spat and ran in the direction the Dwarves had gone.  
“Miss Summers?”  
Viviane gasped and whirled around to find Gandalf right behind her. “Gandalf! Thank God!”  
“What on earth has happened?” he asked. “Where are the others and why are you alone?”  
“Bilbo stumbled upon some trolls,” Viviane replied. “Oh, Gandalf, I’m so afraid the trolls got the rest when they went to save him!”  
Gandalf stroked his beard. “Hm… Well, this is a predicament. Come with me, my dear.”  
“What can I do?” she asked eagerly.  
“Well, for one, you can show me which way they went. And another thing; stay hidden until I tell you otherwise.”

Viviane picked her way past trees and bushes, the tangled mess greedily catching her silver hair.  
“Don’t bother cooking ‘em,” a rough voice called from up ahead. “Let’s just sit on ‘em one by one and squish ‘em into jelly.”  
“They should be sautéed,” another voice said. “And sprinkled with sage.”  
“Oh, that does sound nice.”  
Viviane crept closer to a clearing and nearly gasped. Three ugly trolls had half of the Company on a roasting spit and the other half in bags. Thankfully, they were all alive, but the situation was dire.  
“Wait! You are making a terrible mistake!” It was Bilbo. He jumped up from the pile of bags to get the trolls attention.  
“You can’t reason with them, they’re half-wits!” That was Dori.  
“Half-wits? What does that make us?” And Bofur! Even in the face of death, he was a clown.  
“I meant with the seasoning,” Bilbo continued.  
“What about the seasoning?” the first troll, Bert, said.  
“Well, have you smelt them?” Bilbo asked. “You going to need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up!”  
“Traitor!” Thorin shouted.  
Viviane didn’t know either to laugh or groan. What on earth was the Hobbit doing?  
“What do you know about cooking Dwarf?” William demanded.  
“I know the very secret to cooking Dwarf!”  
Everyone looked at Bilbo.  
“Go on, then,” Bert said. “What’s the secret?”  
“The secret,” Bilbo said. “The secret is…is…is to… Skin them first!”  
The Dwarves started shouting insults at him. Viviane stared at Bilbo. There was no way in Hell that he would actually let the Dwarves be skinned and eaten by stupid trolls!  
“What a load of rubbish!” William scoffed. “Raw Dwarf is just as good.”  
“Yes, it is,” Tom agreed and he picked Bombur up. “So very crunchy.”  
Viviane clapped her hands over her mouth to muffle her gasp. Oh Jesus, this is it! Death by troll!  
“No, not that one!” Bilbo said quickly. “He’s infected!”  
Tom paused. “What?”  
“Yeah, he’s got worms in his…tubes!”  
Bombur gasped in outrage. Tom groaned and tossed the fat Dwarf back onto the Dwarves, who all groaned under his immense weight.  
“In fact,” Bilbo continued, “they’re all riddled with parasites. It’s a nasty business; I really wouldn’t risk it.”  
“Did he say parasites?” Oin shouted.  
“I ain’t got parasites!” Kili growled at the Hobbit. “You have parasites!”  
Thorin kicked them and gave a significant look. They started agreeing. “I’ve got parasites as big as my arm.” “Mine are the biggest parasites!” “I’ve got huge parasites!” “So many inside me!” “We’re riddled with them!”  
William snorted. “So what do you suggest we do with them? Let them all go?”  
Bilbo shrugged and that only seemed to fuel the troll’s anger. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” William snapped. “This little ferret is playing us for fools!”  
“Ferret?!” Bilbo said in outrage.  
“Fools?!” Tom repeated, equally as outraged.  
“THE DAWN WILL TAKE YOU ALL!” Gandalf appeared atop of a rock.  
“Who’s that?” Bert asked.  
“No idea,” William answered.  
“Can we eat him, too?” Tom wondered.  
Gandalf slammed his staff upon the rock and the dawn light rushed into the sky, turning the trolls to stone. The Dwarves and Bilbo laughed with relief. They were saved!  
Gandalf climbed down from the rock and called, “Viviane, my dear, you can come out now.”  
She rolled out of the underbrush and the Dwarves cheered again. “Miss Summers brought Gandalf!” “Thanks, lassie!” “Well done!”  
Viviane blushed and went to untie Bilbo and the others in the bags while Gandalf helped those on the spit. “Honestly,” she scolded the Hobbit, “sneaking about a troll camp. What a stupid idea!”  
Bilbo shrugged. “Well, I did rescue the ponies.”  
“And got yourself and the rest of us caught in the process,” Thorin pointed out.  
Bilbo flushed and went to help the others.  
“Where did you get to?” Viviane asked Gandalf.  
“I looked ahead,” the Wizard said mysteriously.  
“What brought you back?”  
“Looking behind, my dear,” he chuckled. “Nasty business. But you’re all still in one piece.”  
“No thanks to your burglar,” Thorin butted in.  
Not wishing to be dragged into an argument, Viviane wandered off to where Bofur and Bifur were helping Bombur with his trousers. Bofur was holding his right hand gingerly and, when she got a closer look, Viviane could see why.  
“Oh, Bofur, you’re hurt!”  
The Dwarf flushed slightly and tried to hide his appendage. “Eh? Oh, just a little burn, miss. Nothin’ to worry about…”  
Viviane took his hand in hers and inspected it. The skin was red and already starting to blister. Truth be told, and it was hard for Bofur to not blurt it out, just the mere touch of her skin to the wound satisfied him well enough.  
“Really, Viviane, I’m fine.”  
Viviane forced him to sit down and she dug into Oin’s pack, pulling out a strip of cloth and a lotion for burns. She started to rub the lotion carefully over his skin, her blue eyes trained intently on his hand.  
“Sapphires,” Bofur mused.  
She glanced up at him. “Sorry?”  
Bofur started. “Ah…yer eyes. They look like sapphires.” His faced reddened as he said it.  
Viviane blinked at him then smirked. “Well, I suppose you would know. Being a Dwarf and all that. You’re all miners, aren’t you?”  
“Toymaker, actually,” he said with a grin.  
This time Viviane actually looked at him. “Really?”  
Bofur laughed. “All Dwarves can’t be miners, lass! We still need merchants, carpenters and the like. Bifur and me made toys; rather good at it, too.”  
Viviane smiled and it reached her eyes. She wrapped his hand up and stood. “Come on; let’s see where the others have gotten to.”  
They had found the troll-hoard. Bofur went down into the cave with Gandalf, Thorin, Nori and Gloin, but Viviane could barely go within ten feet of the entrance; the stench was horrible!  
“Az-Viviane.” Bifur clapped a hand on her shoulder.  
She smiled at him. “Hello, Bifur. Are you alright?”  
He nodded and signed a thank you. Then he held up a bronze necklace of wrought ivy. He mimed putting it around her neck.  
“Oh, it’s beautiful,” she said. She turned around and lifted up her hair so that he could fix it around her neck. She kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”  
Bifur went red and mumbled in Khuzdul.  
Thorin walked out with Gandalf and the others. “Miss Summers?”  
Viviane stifled a groan. If he’s going scold me for something… She walked up to him. “Yes?”  
“I would speak to you. Alone.”  
She frowned, but nodded. Too late, she realized that he seemed to have a new sword from the troll-hoard. Oh crap. Thorin led her apart from the rest of the Company, much to Bofur’s disquiet.  
“I wish to apologize for my actions last night.”  
Viviane blinked. “Your actions?”  
“I grabbed at you,” Thorin said. “It was rude of me. Please forgive me.”  
Viviane shifted from foot to foot. “Yes. Yes, of course.”  
Thorin looked relieved of having one burden lifted from his shoulders. “I would also ask your advice.” This caused him to bend his pride a little.  
Viviane already knew what it was about. “The map.”  
Thorin took it from his breast pocket and unfolded it for her to see up close. “The art of reading ancient Dwarf has not been taught for several generations. Gandalf believes that Elrond of Rivendell can read it.”  
“But you do not trust the Elves,” she stated.  
“No,” he agreed. “But I will set aside my feelings if you think it right to trust Elrond with this information. Even if this is the legacy of my people.”  
Viviane looked at the map. In truth, she could tell Thorin what it said, but that would bring forth more questions, ones that she didn’t want to answer. She could tell Thorin to go to Rivendell and, whether he liked it or not, he would go there.  
She never understood the ongoing contention between Elves and Dwarves.  
“We need to know the way into the mountain,” she said at last. “Elrond is the only one Gandalf trusts to read this map and I trust Gandalf with my life.” Viviane refolded the map and tucked it into Thorin’s pocket. “I know you mistrust the Elves… But Elrond is not the one who abandoned you to Smaug, is it?”  
“No,” Thorin admitted grudgingly.  
Viviane touched his hand that rested of the pommel of his new sword. “Do not condemn an entire race based on the actions of one man. Show Elrond the map. But,” she added with a smirk, “you do not have to tell him the whole truth.”  
Thorin looked impressed. “There is more to you than meets the eye, isn’t there, Viviane Summers?”  
She smiled and shrugged. “I make it a point to surprise people on a daily basis.”


	8. Chapter 8

The sun was setting by the time the Company reached the Hidden Valley. When they came over the hill and beheld the Last Homely House, Viviane gasped in wonder. Nothing could compare to the beauty of the eternal autumn that settled over the valley.  
“It’s beautiful!”  
“Bless my soul,” Bilbo gasped. “Have you ever seen anything so magnificent?”  
“Come,” Gandalf said. “Let us hurry! They will be lighting the cooking fires soon!”  
As they traveled down into the valley, they heard Elves laughing and singing merrily.  
O! Where are you going?  
With beards all a-wagging?   
No knowing, no knowing  
What brings Mister Baggins  
And Balin and Dwalin  
Down into the Valley  
In June?  
Ha, ha!  
Viviane laughed and clapped her hands happily. “Can you hear them, Bilbo? Just listen!”  
O! Fair maiden of snow  
With eyes of the sapphire  
Sing us a song of merrier days!  
Sing us a tune of happier days!  
Come with us to the Valley  
Ha, ha!  
“Hush, hush! Good people and goodnight,” said Gandalf. “Valleys have ears and some Elves have over merry tongues. Good night!”  
When they came to the courtyard at last, a tall Elf with gold raiment was waiting for them. His hair was ebony and his eyes wise beyond count of years. This was Lord Elrond.  
“Gandalf,” he greeted. “It was told that you had crossed the Bruinen. And with a large company.” His eyes found Thorin and he bowed his head. “Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain.”  
“I do not believe we have met,” Thorin said stiffly.  
Elrond smiled. “You have your grandfather’s bearing. I knew Thrór when he ruled Under the Mountain.”  
“Indeed? He made no mention of you.”  
Viviane rolled her eyes. Mother of pearl…  
Elrond did not rise to the bait, but instead offered a hot meal and bedding afterwards. He looked to Viviane and bowed. “I shall show you, my lady, to our hot springs. There you may wash and relax undisturbed.”  
Viviane smiled. “That would be a welcome relief, my lord.”

When Viviane walked into the dining hall dressed in a long, navy blue gown the Dwarves stopped talking. They all had different expressions of shock and awe on their faces. Viviane blushed and tucked a lock of white hair behind her ear. “What are you all staring at?”  
Duh, they’re staring at me! Or probably the headdress… It was made of mithril and blue topaz.  
Bilbo, Bofur, Ori and Dori leapt to their feet and started shoving each other out of the way so that they would be the one to escort her to the table. It was so weird; she’d never been fought over like that before.  
“Enough, before you hurt yourselves,” Gandalf scolded. “My dear, we have a seat for you here.” He gestured to a seat between him and Elrond. Viviane forced herself not to sprint over there like the totally geek she was. She picked up the hem of the teal dress and swept up to them.  
Elrond stood and pulled out her chair himself. She nearly swooned; oh my God! Viviane sat down with a small, nervous smile in his direction. He smiled back. Holy mother… “Gandalf tells me you are from a far of land,” the Elven Lord said, retaking his seat.  
“Yes, sir,” Viviane replied as cordially as she could.  
His keen grey eyes swept over her. “And that you have an injury.”  
The Dwarves were listening hard now. Viviane swallowed and nodded. “My left hand. I was in an accident that left my parents and I stranded in a snow bank for a long time. They didn’t make it. When I was dug out, my hair was white from the shock and frostbite had taken the nerves in my hand.”  
There was a shocked silence. Bofur had to fight off the impulse to go over and hug the poor girl. He seemed to be fighting his impulses a lot lately. He had never been that way before meeting Viviane Summers.  
“I am sorry for your loss,” Thorin murmured.  
“May I see your hand?” Elrond asked. She gave him it, unsure of what he was going to do. He started pressing his thumbs on different points of her skin and then alternated by rubbing her entire hand. He went at this for a good five minutes.  
And then, like a snap of a finger, she could feel her hand.  
Viviane gasped and jerked her hand back. She could feel it! She could curl her fingers and twirl her wrist around. She could almost make a fist. She looked up at Elrond with tears in her eyes. “Thank you. Thank you so much!”  
The Elven Lord bowed his head. “I would take your time with using it, but the muscles should start working properly soon enough.”  
Dinner progressed with the Dwarves grumbling over the lack of meat and wincing at the music of the Elves. Dori was trying to get Ori to eat the salad. “Try it. Just a mouthful.”  
“I don’t like green food,” Ori said adamantly.  
Dwalin picked a salad completely out of a bowl, searching for something other than rabbit food. “Where’s the meat?”  
Bofur eyed Viviane as she daintily nibbled on a carrot. “How can you eat this?”  
She shot them a stern look and leaned closer to them, as if to divulge a secret. “It’s called ‘suck it up and eat’. Come on, it’s healthy for you.”  
“Exactly,” Nori sniffed, pushing his plate away. Viviane sighed and likewise ceased eating her food. In truth, she hated rabbit food just as much as the Dwarves. Meanwhile, Kili had turned on the smolder for a pretty Elf-maid. His attentions earned him a stern glare from Dwalin.  
“What?” Kili asked, trying to play it off. “Can’t say I fancy Elf-maids myself. Too thin. They’re all high cheekbones and creamy skin; not enough facial hair for me.”  
Nothing too wrong with that, Bofur thought, staring at Viviane again.  
Another Elf walked by and Kili studied them. “Although… That one’s not that bad.”  
Viviane leaned in to the young prince. “That’s not a girl, Kili.”  
The Elf turned and it was decidedly not a girl, but a dashing Elf-lord. He stopped by Viviane’s chair and took her hand in his. “I hope you enjoy your time in Rivendell, most fair lady.” He kissed her hand.  
Viviane smiled. “Thank you.” She watched him depart, eyes trailing after him.  
“You can’t say you enjoyed that!” Fili said, aghast.  
“The compliments; always. The pretty-boy Elf?” She shrugged and turned back around. “Only my twelve-year old self was into that.”  
The Dwarves roared with laughter. But the mood was dampened slightly but the somber tune the Elves played. “Oi!” Nori barked at the musicians. “Change the tune, why don’t you? I feel like I’m at a funeral!”  
“Did somebody die?” Oin rumbled.  
Bofur saw his chance to show off in front of Viviane and took it. “Alright, lads! There’s only one thing for it!” He jumped onto the table and Viviane quickly snatched her glass of wine away from his large boots.  
There is an inn, a merry old inn  
beneath an old grey hill,  
And there they brew a beer so brown  
That the Man in the Moon himself came down  
one night to drink his fill.

The ostler has a tipsy cat  
that plays a five-stringed fiddle;  
And up and down he saws his bow  
Now squeaking high, now purring low,  
now sawing in the middle.

So the cat on the fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,  
a jig that would wake the dead:  
He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,  
While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:  
‘It’s after three!’ he said.  
Viviane laughed and clapped her hands as the Dwarves joined in. Bilbo was wide-eyed at the appalling sense of decorum these Dwarves possessed. And it only got worse as the food started to fly. He and Viviane squeaked and ducked as a large glob of cottage cheese missed them and splattered on the wall just an inch from Lindir’s shoulder.  
And as it would later be said, dinner without at least two food fights was considered very boring indeed!

Viviane was trying to grip a spoon with her left hand. It kept falling through her fingers and clattering on the floor. After the twenty-sixth time of this happening and she bent down to retrieve the utensil, Bofur picked it up for her.  
“Thought Elrond told ye to take it easy,” he said.  
Viviane frowned. “I haven’t used my hand for fourteen years. I’ve taken it easy for too long.”  
Bofur touched her cheek. “You shouldn’t push yerself so hard, lass. It’ll come to you.”  
Viviane looked up at him. “It’s how I’ve lived, Bofur. The only way i know how to live. I’ve pushed myself for so long…putting myself into an endless cycle of repetition...”  
“Tha’s not livin’, Viviane,” he said, stepping closer. “Tha’s somethin’ else, but it sure ain’t livin’.”  
Viviane lowered her eyes. “It’s what’s kept me from looking back. I feel like if I look back…I’ll go mad.”  
With his other hand, Bofur tipped her head back up at him. “You won’t go mad, Viviane. I won’t let you.” He even surprised himself.  
Viviane smiled and then tears flooded her eyes and she cried into his chest. Bofur wrapped his arms around her and cradled her close, shushing her and stroking her white hair.


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning found Viviane watching Dwalin, Fili and Kili practicing their skills of sword fighting. She definitely preferred the more graceful approach of the rapiers from the movies back home, but there was a different kind of charm to the axes and broadswords that were used here.  
Dwalin finished off the two princes easily, hardly even breaking a sweat. Fili leaned on his knees and gasped in breath while Kili clutched at his arm. “Yer getting better, lads,” Dwalin grunted.  
“That was good?” Viviane teased.  
“Hey!” “Who’s side are you on?”  
“What about you, lassie?” Dwalin asked. “Can ye fight?”  
Viviane flushed slightly. “There’s a saying where I come from; I’m a lover, not a fighter.”  
The fierce Dwarf chuckled once. “Ye still should learn to protect yerself.” He pulled out a dagger and beckoned her closer. “Show me how to hold this.”  
Viviane took the dagger in her right hand while flexing her left. She had originally been left-handed and now that she could feel her hand wanted to be used. The dagger felt heavy and foreign in her grasp. She knew how to defend herself, but not with this sort of weapon.  
Dwalin was slightly surprised that the lass held the weapon correctly, but it was obvious that she wasn’t comfortable. “Try it in your other hand.”  
Viviane grimaced, but did so. To her surprise, the dagger felt more at home in her healed hand. And it wasn’t a bother to hold.  
“Good,” Dwalin praised. And then he attacked her.  
Viviane used her right wrist to catch the Dwarf’s punch and swept under his arm and pressed the flat of the dagger to his stomach. Just as quickly, she twirled out of his reach. “I took a few defense classes back home.”  
Fili and Kili applauded. Dwalin straightened and dusted off his hands. “You’ll do fine, lassie.” He took the dagger back and then turned to the princes. “Alright, you ninnies. If a girl can show the both of you up, I’m not pushing you hard enough!”  
“Aw!”

Viviane walked through the halls of Rivendell, dressed in a crimson gown with a gold trim and metal belt. Her hair was pulled into a hairnet adorned with rubies and red crystals. She trailed her healed hand over the walls as she walked, feeling the textures and trying to process the feeling. Where she could feel everything in her right hand the same as anyone else, the sensations in her left hand was like that of a newborn.  
“Viviane?”  
She looked around and saw Bilbo up on another floor. He grinned down at her. “Dear me, I thought you were an Elf!”  
“My ears are still rounded, last I checked,” she quipped. “What are you doing up there?”  
“Exploring,” the Hobbit replied. “Come up here! You’ll never believe what I’ve found!”  
She could just imagine. Viviane lifted the hem of her skirts and walked up a staircase to where her friend was standing in front of a fresco. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt like crying. It was the painting depicting Sauron’s fall.  
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Bilbo breathed.  
She could only nod. It felt odd; seeing something so real from something so fantastical. Once again, she was reminded that she was not a part of Middle-Earth; just an intruder on a mystical land that was a haven to so many who wished to be in her shoes.  
If the fresco was here, then that would mean… Viviane turned around and the breath left her in a sigh. There it was. She stepped closer to the pedestal and the shards of Narsil gleamed up at her with a dull light.  
An insight came upon Viviane with enough force to cause her to stumble back a few paces. Bilbo caught her arm in alarm. “Viviane? Are you well?”  
“I…I don’t want to leave,” she said numbly. “I want to stay here.”  
Neither she nor the Hobbit saw Bofur standing behind them, a muddled bouquet in hand. When he heard Viviane’s words, the goofy smile slipped from his face and he retreated with a slouch.

“Are you sure that’s what she said, lad?”  
“I heard it as plain as I can see the mustache on my face.”  
“Miss Viviane isn’t going to leave us, is she?”  
“C’mon, Ori, you saw her face when we came here.”  
Bofur sat with his chin in his hands, depressed and barely hearing the conversations soaring above his head. Why would Viviane want to leave them for a bunch of Elves? She always seemed happy with the Company.  
“Be quiet,” Thorin growled. “If Miss Summers would rather stay here rather than fulfill her contract, let her. It was a mistake to bring a woman with us anyway.”  
“But what if she’s not in her right mind?” Kili asked. “What if she’s under some kind Elf-spell?”  
“Sounds like every other kid story back home.” Viviane walked in, looking very beautiful in her red gown. “Lady under a spell and only true love’s kiss can break the spell…” She sighed and plopped down into a chair. “To think that used to be utterly romantic when I was a child.”  
The Dwarves avoided her gaze.  
“What?”  
Balin looked around and, when it was apparent no one else would speak, said, “Lass… While we might not completely understand why, if you want to stay…”  
“What are you talking about?”  
They blinked. “Don’t you want to stay behind?” Ori asked.  
Viviane frowned. “What? Why would you think that?”  
“You said it,” Thorin said.  
She stared. “No I... That was… Ugh, I was talking about something else.” Her blue eyes flashed. “Do you honestly think that I would turn back now? I signed a contract with you and I intend to see it through!”  
The Dwarves glared at Bofur, who wanted nothing more than to just sink into the floor.  
“Ah, Miss Summers! There you are!” Gandalf swept into the midst of them. “I found a place that you might be pleased to see.”  
“Yeah. Right.” She stood up and, with one last quelling look at the lot of them, left with the Wizard.  
Bifur thumped Bofur on the head. “Zu rî hálfviti!” (You’re an idiot!)

Bilbo stood on a balcony overlooking the Valley. The Sun painted everything in gold. There was such a natural beauty here! It was different from the Shire, but it stirred emotions in Bilbo’s heart that could only remind him home.  
Ah, home…  
“Not with your companions?”  
Bilbo turned as Lord Elrond joined him. “Ah, I shant be missed.” The Hobbit cleared his throat. “The truth is that most of them don’t think that I should be on this journey.”  
Elrond looked the Hobbit up and down. “Indeed? I have heard that Hobbits are rather resilient.”  
Bilbo scoffed and looked at the Elf Lord. “R-Really?”  
Elrond nodded. “I have also heard they are fond of the comforts of home.”  
Bilbo leaned in, as if to give away some big secret. “I’ve heard that it is unwise to seek the council of Elves; that they will answer with yes and no.”  
Elrond fixed him with a stern look. For a moment, Bilbo thought that had offended the lord. Perhaps he should stop quoting those blasted, rude Dwarves. Then Elrond smiled and gave him a small wink.  
“You are very welcomed to stay,” Elrond said, patting the little man’s shoulder. “If that is your wish.”


	10. Chapter 10

Gandalf had taken her to the Hall of Fire.  
The Hall of Fire! Where Elves came to sing and dance and, above all, listen. The walls were dark and the only light came from a large fireplace and the ornate sconces. The Elves were gathered, listening to the Lay of Lúthien. Bilbo was sitting on a cushion near the front, knees tucked up to his chest as he listened with rapt attention.  
Viviane sat down beside him, her skirts fanning out in a pool of scarlet around her. The Elves’ voice wrought a magic around their heads, entrancing them like a bee to a daisy. When the maiden finished, Bilbo and Viviane clapped.  
“I see that the fair Viviane has joined us,” Lindir said. “What would she hear, I wonder?”  
“Th-the Lay of Nimrodel is my favorite,” she answered breathlessly. An Elf with a harp started plucking the strings.  
“You must sing with us, fair one,” another Elf-maid purred.  
An Elven-maid there was of old,  
A shining star by day:  
Her mantle white was hemmed with gold,  
Her shoes of silver-grey.

A star was bound upon her brows,  
A light was on her hair  
As sun upon the golden boughs  
In Lórien the fair.

Her hair was long, her limbs were white,  
And fair she was and free;  
And in the wind she went as light  
As leaf of linden-tree.

Beside the falls of Nimrodel,  
By water clear and cool,  
Her voice as falling silver fell  
Into the shining pool.

Where now she wanders none can tell,  
In sunlight or in shade;  
For lost of yore was Nimrodel  
And in the mountains strayed.

The elven-ship in haven grey  
Beneath the mountain-lee  
Awaited her for many a day  
Beside the roaring sea.

A wind by night in Northern lands  
Arose, and loud it cried,  
And drove the ship from elven-strands  
Across the streaming tide.

When dawn came dim the land was lost,  
The mountains sinking grey  
Beyond the heaving waves that tossed  
Their plumes of blinding spray.

Amroth beheld the fading shore  
Now low beyond the swell,  
And cursed the faithless ship that bore  
Him far from Nimrodel.

Of old he was an Elven-king,  
A lord of tree and glen,  
When golden were the boughs in spring  
In fair Lothlorien.

From helm to sea they saw him leap,  
As arrow from the string,  
And dive into water deep,  
As mew upon the wing.

The wind was in his flowing hair,  
The foam about him shone;  
Afar they saw him strong and fair  
Go riding like a swan.

But from the West has come no word,  
And on the Hither Shore  
No tidings Elven-folk have heard  
Of Amroth evermore.  
Viviane had been too enraptured to sing. “That was amazing,” she whispered, her voice sounding rough compared to those of the Elves.  
“What of you, Master Hobbit?” Lindir asked Bilbo. “Would you sing us a song from the Shire?”  
Bilbo flushed. “Oh! Oh, no, I-I couldn’t possibly… We have no songs fit for grand halls.”  
“Here, in the Hall of Fire, all songs are welcome.” Lord Elrond had joined them, dressed in a dark purple outfit and a gilded circlet upon his brow. “Come, Bilbo Baggins, and let us be the first to hear tales of the Shire and the Little Folk.”  
Bilbo swallowed, but stood all the same and cleared his throat.  
Upon the hearth the fire is red,  
Beneath the roof there is a bed;  
But not yet weary are our feet,  
Still round the corner we may meet  
A sudden tree or standing stone  
That none have seen but we alone.  
Tree and flower and leaf and grass,  
Let them pass! Let them pass!  
Hill and water under sky,  
Pass them by! Pass them by!

Still round the corner there may wait  
A new road or a secret gate,  
And though we pass them by today,  
Tomorrow we may come this way  
And take the hidden paths that run  
Towards the Moon or to the Sun.  
Apple, thorn and nut and sloe,  
Let them go! Let them go!  
Sand and stone and pool and dell,  
Fare you well! Fare you well!

Home is behind, the world ahead,  
And there are many paths to tread  
Through shadows to the edge of night,  
Until the stars are all alight.  
Then world is behind and home ahead,  
We’ll wander back to home and bed.  
Mist and twilight, cloud and shade,  
Away shall fade! Away shall fade!  
Fire and lamp and meat and bread,  
And then to bed! And then to bed!  
The Hobbit bowed low and all assembled clapped heartily. Viviane laughed and applauded. “Bravo, Master Hobbit!” “The songs of Shirelings are well and good!”  
“And now,” Gandalf said, “I believe it is Miss Summers’s turn.”  
Viviane blushed. “Oh, Gandalf, I don’t know…”  
“Oh come on!” Bilbo squeaked. “If I can do it, you most certainly can!”  
“Oh, yes, please sing to us!” “Sing us a love song!” “No, a lullaby!”  
Viviane found herself standing with all eyes on her. Well…if this was how she was going to help defeat Smaug, she might as well get some practice. She took a few breathes and then opened her mouth.  
Loo-li, loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay  
Loo-li, loo-li, loo-li lai-lay

Lay down your head and I'll sing you a lullaby  
Back to the years of loo-li lai-lay  
And I'll sing you to sleep and I'll sing you tomorrow  
Bless you with love for the road that you go

May you sail far to the far fields of fortune  
With diamonds and pearls at your head and your feet  
And may you need never to banish misfortune  
May you find kindness in all that you meet

May there always be angels to watch over you  
To guide you each step of the way  
To guard you and keep you safe from all harm  
Loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay

May you bring love and may you bring happiness  
Be loved in return to the end of your days  
Now fall off to sleep, I'm not meaning to keep you  
I'll just sit for a while and sing loo-li, lai-lay

May there always be angels to watch over you  
To guide you each step of the way  
To guard you and keep you safe from all harm  
Loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay, loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay

Loo-li, loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay  
Loo-li, loo-li, loo-li lai-lay  
Loo-li, loo-li, loo-li lai-lay  
Loo-li, loo-li, loo-li lai-lay  
Loo-li, lai-lay…  
There was silence. Everyone was staring at her with wide eyes and opened mouths. Viviane blushed and ducked her head.  
“Fair lady,” Lindir whispered. “You have the voice that could repel the darkness itself.”  
“You must sing some more!” “Fair one, sing something else!” “Sing for us again!”  
Their words nearly overwhelmed her. “It is getting very late,” she said weakly. “I am tired…” She escaped from them and leaned against the wall outside to catch her breath.  
She needed to bake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs are:  
> Lay of Nimrodel-- I love this song so much!  
> Farewell Song of Merry and Pippin  
> Sleepsong


	11. Chapter 11

Maybe far away  
Or maybe real nearby  
He may be pouring her coffee  
She may be straightening his tie!  
Maybe in a house  
All hidden by a hill  
She's sitting playing piano,  
He's sitting paying a bill!  
Viviane had found the kitchen and was now kneading the dough of her special bread. It was always a relief to bake; it cleared her head so she could just be herself with no one else around.  
Betcha they're young  
Betcha they're smart  
Bet they collect things  
Like ashtrays, and art!  
Betcha they're good --   
(Why shouldn't they be?)   
Their one mistake   
Was giving up me! 

So maybe now it's time,  
And maybe when I wake   
They'll be there calling me "Baby"...   
Maybe. 

Betcha he reads  
Betcha she sews  
Maybe she's made me  
A closet of clothes!  
Maybe they're strict  
As straight as a line...   
Don't really care  
As long as they're mine! 

So maybe now this prayer's  
The last one of its kind...   
Won't you please come get your "Baby"  
She popped the loaves into the oven and sighed. “Maybe…”  
“Dragon Enchanter, indeed.” Thorin walked into the kitchen, looking extremely out of place. “If you can enchant the Elves, the dragon should be easy work for you.”  
Viviane blushed. “You heard about that.”  
“The Hobbit is singing your praises,” he said wryly. “And Dori and his brothers were passing the Hall of Fire when you sang. They came back to us looking like love struck ninnies.”  
Viviane laughed and patted the flour off of her apron and into the bin. “I shall have to work on keeping you lads immune, then.”  
Thorin sat down and examined the bottles of herbs set out. “What did you mean yesterday? When you said that you didn’t want to leave?”  
Viviane was silent for a long time, unsure of how to respond. “I do not wish to leave Middle-Earth. Ever.”  
Thorin toyed with the stopper of some cinnamon. “Gandalf told me you hail from a far off land that is vastly different from here. He said you were several thousands of years advanced than us. Why would you wish to leave it?”  
Viviane bit her lip. “It was never home. After my parents died, I was bounced from one foster home to the next until I turned eighteen. I taught myself to survive, but that meant keeping my distance from others. I lived in a never-ending cycle and I never knew that I hated my life until I fell into the Shire.” She smiled. “Those Hobbits took me in without question and brought down the thorny barriers I had put around me. Now I can never go back to London, knowing what I know now.”  
Thorin nodded slowly and then stood. “I will leave you now. Elrond will read the map this night. And then we can leave this salad-eating swarm!”

“You should leave tomorrow.”  
Everyone looked up from their breakfast at Gandalf’s words.  
“Why?” Thorin asked.  
“There will be a meeting of sorts tonight,” Gandalf answered. “I must take part in this, but I want you all to leave without me at dawn. Wait for me in the mountains and I shall find you there.”  
“Why not leave now?” Thorin pressed. “Why sneak away like criminals?”  
Gandalf puffed on his pipe. “Because there is one who would put an end to your quest; Saruman the White. He will be distracted during the meeting; therefore it will be an excellent opportunity to sneak away.”  
Thorin narrowed his eyes, but nodded. “Very well.” He turned to the Company. “Make preparations today. Be asleep by dusk so you will be well rested for dawn.”

Viviane was packing her bag when Elrond found her. “Gandalf told me your plan,” he said. “I am sorry you cannot stay longer, Enchanter.”  
Viviane blushed slightly. “As am I.”  
Elrond pulled a parcel wrapped in a silver cloth from within his robes and held it out to her. “My people made these for you. I think you might find them more comfortable than what you already wear.”  
Viviane took the parcel and unwrapped it. “Oh my…” It was a light grey shirt, dark leather pants, boots and a dusky plum vest. There were bracers and a belt and even a pair of hard, leather shoulder guards. “My lord, I… I do not know what to say.”  
Elrond smiled kindly. “Say that you will grant my people one last song before you leave. In truth, you have the voice of Estё; she who heals the ill with her voice.”  
Viviane went red. “I don’t know about that… But, yes, I will sing one last song tonight.”  
Elrond bowed. “There is one other who would meet with you.” He extended his arm to her and she took it with a shaking hand. He led her up several flights of stairs until they came to a gazebo that overlooked the entire Valley.  
A lone figure stood there, dressed in white, hair as golden as any sun and wreath in an ethereal beauty. The Lady of Light, Galadriel, smiled at Viviane. “Greetings, Viviane Summers. I am glad you have come.”  
Viviane was dimly aware of Elrond leaving them. She dipped into a sloppy curtsy and adverted her eyes. “Lady Galadriel!” Sweet Lord, but this was just too much!  
A pale hand lifted her chin and Galadriel’s smile widened. “You need not pay homage to me, fair one. We are friends only.”  
Viviane could only stare. The beauty of the Elves could not be expressed in any way and Galadriel was the fairest of them all. She felt so insignificant before her, her deep eyes echoing long years of wisdom and sorrow. She suddenly understood how Gimli could fall in love with her.  
“You travel with Thorin Oakenshield,” she whispered.  
“Y-yes.”  
“You have found friends among the Dwarves.” She tucked a curl of white hair behind Viviane’s ear. “And you will find much more in the years to come.”  
Viviane blinked. “What do you mean more?”  
“You have suffered for long enough, Viviane,” Galadriel said. “It is time for you have the love you deserve. But you must open yourself to those around you. Show them your heart and they will take care of you.”  
“I don’t know how to do that,” Viviane confessed in a small voice.  
Galadriel smiled and cupped her face. “You will learn.”

Viviane sat in the Hall of Fire with Bilbo, Gandalf and the Dwarves. The Elves and Dwarves seemed to be taking turns showing the other up with magnificent songs and stories. Viviane and Bilbo were snickering behind their hands, enjoying the show immensely.  
Bofur bounded up to Viviane and bowed. “Come and dance, lass!”  
Viviane hesitated and eyed his large, steel boots and then her own tucked into dainty little slippers. Bofur seemed to read her mind and grinned. “Here.” He lifted her up until she stood on his toes and they were eye-level. They moved around awkwardly, but it was good fun. Then Dori stole Viviane away and twirled her around and dipped her.  
“Oi!” Bofur yelped.  
“You should keep a tighter hold on your partner,” Dori teased, spinning me again.  
“Heed your own advice, brother,” Nori chuckled and scooped her into his arms.  
The Elves laughed as the Dwarves took turns stealing Viviane and spinning her around. Bilbo tried once to rescue her, but was accidentally elbowed in the face by an enthusiastic Kili. Eventually, Viviane found herself back in Bofur’s arms and, grabbing her wrists, spun both of them around and around in a circle.  
“Bofur, stop!” Viviane laughed as their surroundings became a blur. “Bofur!”  
He laughed and they went faster.  
“Bofur!” She squeezed her eyes shut and tightened her grip on his wrists. Then she tripped over her feet and they went sprawling on the floor. Bofur landed on his back with Viviane just over him, panting and giggling.  
“Merry, Master Dwarf!” the Elves called, laughing.  
Bofur helped Viviane to her feet and they staggered as their heads spun.  
“Lady Viviane, would you sing for us again?” “Ooh, yes, please!”  
Viviane laughed. “Allow me to catch my breath! Bilbo, why don’t you sing us something.”  
The Hobbit bowed and began:  
I sit beside the fire and think  
Of all that I have seen,  
Of meadow-flowers and butterflies  
In summers that have been;

Of yellow leaves and gossamer  
In autumn that there were,  
With morning mist and silver sun  
And wind upon my hair.

I sit beside the fire and think  
Of how the world will be  
When winter comes without a spring  
That I shall ever see.

For still there are so many things  
That I have never seen:  
In every wood in every spring  
There is a different green.

I sit beside the fire and think  
Of people long ago,  
And people who will see a world  
That I shall never know.

But all the while I sit and think  
Of times there were before,  
I listen for returning feet  
And voices at the door.  
Again, Bilbo bowed as the Elves applauded. The Dwarves stared at their companion. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was more to Bilbo Baggins than they had first decided.  
“I have not heard that one before,” Viviane said. “Did you compose it, my dear friend?”  
“Aye,” Bilbo said. “A bit of a pastime of mine. Now, my dear, it is your turn.”  
Viviane smiled and took Bilbo’s place before them all.  
Midnight  
Not a sound from the pavement  
Has the moon lost her memory?  
She is smiling alone  
In the lamplight  
The withered leaves collect at my feet  
And the wind begins to moan 

Memory  
All alone in the moonlight  
I can smile at the old days  
I was beautiful then  
I remember the time I knew what happiness was  
Let the memory live again 

Every streetlamp  
Seems to beat a fatalistic warning  
Someone mutters  
And the streetlamp gutters  
And soon it will be morning 

Daylight  
I must wait for the sunrise  
I must think of a new life  
And I mustn’t give in  
When the dawn comes  
Tonight will be a memory too  
And a new day will begin 

Burnt out ends of smoky days  
The stale cold smell of morning  
The streetlamp dies, another night is over  
Another day is dawning 

Touch me  
It's so easy to leave me  
All alone with the memory  
Of my days in the sun  
If you touch me  
You'll understand what happiness is  
Look  
A new day has begun  
Again, all was silence as Viviane’s song faded away. The Elves stared, the Dwarves sniffled and Bilbo wept silently. No one dared to speak, for fear that this was a dream and any sound would wake them.  
“There you are, Gandalf.”  
The spell was broken. Viviane turned to see who had spoken, but there was no mistaking that voice that belonged to a god. She would recognize Sir Christopher Lee’s voice anywhere.  
Saruman the White glared strictly at Gandalf. “You are needed, my old friend.”  
Gandalf stood quickly. “Ah, yes! Forgive me, but my thoughts have been presently engaged.” He bowed to Viviane. “Until we meet again, my dear. As for the rest of you, you should be eating dinner.” He left with the other Wizard, but not before Saruman gave Viviane a narrow eyed stare that was instantly returned.  
“Gandalf is right,” Thorin said. “It is growing late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs Used:  
> Maybe  
> Memory
> 
> Bilbo's poem is from FotR


	12. Chapter 12

Bofur was roused from a lovely dream of a moonlit walk with a certain white-haired lass by his cousin. “Time already?”  
Bifur grunted and moved to kick Bombur awake.  
Bofur yawned and stretched. “Where’s the Hobbit gotten to?”  
“Went to go burgle some food with Nori,” Gloin yawned. “But where did the lass get to?”  
Bofur looked around in apprehension. Indeed, Viviane wasn’t with them. Just as he really started to get worried, she joined them, dressed in an Elvish outfit and braiding her pale hair.  
“Morning, boys,” she greeted with tired eyes.  
“Where’d ye get those clothes, lassie?” Oin asked.  
“Lord Elrond gave them to me,” she responded, tying off her braid with a strip of leather. “And these.” She pulled out two daggers with silver handles and a teardrop pearl set in the pommels.  
“Think the Elves will miss you, lass,” Dwalin mused, only a bit accusatory.  
Bilbo and Nori returned with breakfast and they all ate quickly before packing up and heading out.  
“Be on your guard,” Thorin called as they reached the boarders of Imladris. “We’re about to step into the Wild. Balin, you know these parts; lead on.”  
Bilbo paused to look back and Viviane stopped by his side. “You’ll see it again, my friend,” she whispered.  
“How can you be so sure?”  
She smiled mysteriously. “Call it a woman’s intuition.”

Rivendell was now days behind them. The Misty Mountains loomed before them, dark and imposing. They travelled a lot more these days; stopping at dusk and proceeding at the crack of dawn. They carried no ponies, for there had been no time to retrieve any before sneaking out of the Valley.  
“So what did Elrond say about the map?” Viviane asked Thorin as they ate lunch as they walked.  
“ ‘Stand by the grey stone when the Thrush knocks’,” Thorin recited. “ ‘and the setting sun with the last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the key-hole’.”  
Viviane blinked owlishly at him. “We need a bird to knock for us?”  
Thorin didn’t appreciate the joke. Viviane shrugged and went to walk beside Bofur. The Dwarf-king couldn’t but help notice how they both seemed to light up when in each other’s company.  
That night, Thorin sat with the map and key and pondering what was before him. Balin sat with him, enjoying the meal Bombur and Viviane had cooked for them.  
The sound of Bifur’s laughter drifted over to him and Thorin looked over to where the crazed Dwarf was sitting with their Enchanter. “What are they doing?”  
Balin looked up from his dinner. “He’s teaching her Khuzdul.”  
“What?” Thorin was outraged. Khuzdul was a language only for Dwarves. To have an outsider speak it…  
“She’s learning quickly, too,” Balin continued. “Oh, Thorin, stop scowling. It was bound to happen sooner or later. She’s been getting along well with the lads; Bofur especially.”  
Thorin shook his head. “No good can come of it.”  
“Would you really deny a Dwarrow his One?”  
The question brought Thorin up short. “You think Miss Summers is Bofur’s One?”  
“Look at them, lad!”  
Bofur walked up to Viviane and traded words and a laugh with her. She absolutely lit up at whatever the Dwarf had said to her. And that started a chain reaction in Bofur’s expression. Thorin watched as Bofur took Viviane’s healed hand and kissed it before walking back to where his brother was serving dinner.  
The Dwarf-king sighed. “Mahal… Why must these things be so complicated?”  
“How is it complicated, Thorin?” Balin asked. “They have yet to even admit their feelings. And if you’re worried about the pair of them acting on what they feel, then you can relax. Viviane has more sense than any of us and Bofur is an honorable Dwarf; he wouldn’t ravage her like some slut in the Wild. Just leave them be, lad.”  
“What are we talking about?” Fili and Kili dropped down on either side of their uncle.  
“Nothing,” Balin answered sternly. “Just telling your uncle that he worries needlessly about most things.”

Bofur and Viviane walked in the back of the Company, trading stories and jokes. And holding hands. Every time one of the Dwarves would glance back at the sound of a laugh, they would see the pair holding hands.  
“When do think he’ll pop the question?” Nori chuckled.  
“He hasn’t even kissed her, yet,” Oin said.  
“I think it’s sweet,” Ori scolded.  
“This is an adventure,” Dwalin rumbled. “Not a honeymoon.” Viviane laughed again and they all glanced back to see Bofur kiss her hand sweetly. “Still…I’m happy for the lad.”  
“She’s a lucky lady,” Bombur insisted. “Bofur never looked twice at a woman before in Ered Luin.”  
“What d’ye think Sansa will say when she finds out Bofur’s fallen for a human?” Gloin asked.  
Bombur felt a like heartsick at the mention of his wife. He missed her terribly. “Sansa has been trying to get Bofur with a girl for so long; she won’t mind that Viv’s a human.” He brightened a little. “And the children will be happy to have an aunt.”  
“Aye, yer girls will want to braid her hair and dress her up,” Oin chuckled.  
“And I’ve always wanted a sister,” Bombur added.  
“Az-Viviane al ghele yâsith,” Bifur said seriously. (Viviane will make a good wife.)  
“He hasn’t even kissed her yet,” Oin repeated in exasperation.  
They glanced back at the couple in time to see Bofur snatch up a sprig of the purple wildflowers they were trekking through and fix it in Viviane’s white hair.  
“Can’t be too long now,” Dori said.  
“Anyone care to make a wager?” Nori asked. “Ori, write this down!”

Bombur- (5 gold) kiss before Mirkwood  
Bifur- (7 gold) kiss before Mirkwood  
Nori- (7 gold) kiss after Misty Mountains  
Dori- (6 gold) kiss before Misty Mountains  
Ori- (5 gold) Viviane kisses Bofur  
Oin- (5 gold) kiss in Mirkwood  
Gloin- (8 gold) kiss before Misty Mountains  
Dwalin- (8 gold) Viviane kisses Bofur before Mirkwood  
Balin- (7 gold) Bofur kisses Viviane in the Mountains  
Fili- (10 gold) kiss after Misty Mountains  
Kili- (10 gold) kiss before Mirkwood  
Thorin- (8 gold) Viviane kisses Bofur  
Bilbo- I WILL NOT TAKE PART IN ANY STUPID DWARF BETS!!!

She was falling in love. At least, Viviane thought it was love. She had never felt this way before. She was almost sure it was love; she had allowed Bofur to get close to her when she had denied the action to everyone else. He made her heart flutter when he kissed her hands and cheeks. Her stomach flipped every time he smiled at her.  
Was this love?  
“What’s that, lass?” Bofur asked.  
She blushed when she realized that she was humming a love song. “It’s…embarrassing. I didn’t realize I was doing it.”  
Bofur smiled kindly. “Come on, lass. I promise I won’t laugh!”  
“You might not, but the others are sure to.”  
“Fair enough. So sing something else. Something from your land.”  
Viviane raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”  
Bofur shrugged. “What’s your favorite song?”  
She laughed. “It varies from day to day.”  
“What is it today?”  
Viviane thought about it and then sang.  
Somewhere beyond the sea  
Somewhere waitin' for me  
My lover stands on golden sand  
And watches the ships that go sailin'

Somewhere beyond the sea  
She's there watchin' for me  
If I could fly like birds on high  
Then straight to her arms I'd go sailin'

It's far beyond the stars  
It's near beyond the moon  
I know beyond a doubt  
My heart will lead me there soon

We'll meet beyond the shore  
We'll kiss just as before  
Happy we'll be, beyond the sea  
And never again I'll go sailin'

I know beyond a doubt,   
My heart will lead me there soon  
We'll meet, I know we'll meet  
Beyond the shore  
We'll kiss just as before  
Happy we'll be, beyond the sea  
And never again I'll go sailin'  
Bofur pulled her close and kissed her cheek. “You sing better than any Elf, Viviane.”  
“You should sing more often!” Fili called.  
“Yeah, and then ruin her voice when we get to the mountain,” Kili shot back.  
“Erebor is still a long ways off,” Thorin said. “And practice will do her good.”  
Viviane grimaced. “Was that a compliment or a slight?”  
“Ye can never tell with Thorin,” Bofur muttered in her ear, making her smile again.

That night, after dinner, Bofur was leaning against his pack smoking his pipe. Viviane sat beside him, slowly dozing off. When her head lolled against his shoulder, Bofur smiled and took her healed hand in his. He traced little circles around her knuckles and followed her tendons and blue veins down to her wrist and felt her pulse.  
“Hm, that feels nice,” she whispered. He hadn’t known that she was still awake.  
“Did I wake you?”  
“No,” she murmured. “It’s strange to feel my hand again. It’s like everything is heightened when I touch something. Almost a sensory overload.” She turned her hand over and Bofur’s rough fingers moved over her smooth palm. She shivered at the feeling.  
“What is this?” he whispered, feeling a little scared.  
“I don’t know,” Viviane whispered back. “But…I don’t want to let go.”  
Bofur put out his pipe and pulled her so close she was nearly in his lap. “I don’t either.”

Five days after leaving Rivendell, they finally reach the base of the Misty Mountains. During that time, both Bofur and Viviane realized that they were being watched very carefully by the others.  
“What are they gawking at?” Viviane whispered.  
Bofur groaned. “They’ve taken bets. I saw it in Ori’s journal.”  
“Bets? For what?”  
He didn’t answer straight away. “Well… A-about you… And me.”  
She raised an eyebrow.  
Bofur took a deep breath. “They’ve noticed how we’re always together…holding hands…laughing… And they took bets on how long it would take for us to… To…uh…”  
“Ah.” Now she understood. “Interesting.”  
“Are ye mad?” Bofur asked.  
“No. Not…really. I feel a bit of a fool.”  
Bofur wrapped an arm around her. “I wouldn’t hold ya back if ye wanted some revenge.”  
Viviane looked at his hand and then gave him a wry smile. “I think their presumptions are justified, Bofur.”  
He blushed and made to draw back, but she took his hand and snuggled into his side. “Sorry. I’m not good at this sort of thing.”  
She looked at him. “You’ve never had a girlfriend?”  
“Well…not since I was a much younger Dwarf,” he admitted.  
Viviane smiled. “Good.”  
Bofur grinned. “Jealous?”  
She scoffed. “As if!”  
They chuckled and snuggled closer together.  
“Bofur?”  
“Hm?”  
“It wouldn’t be so bad. If you were to kiss me.”  
Bofur’s heart leapt. “Let’s give the lads a run for their money first.”  
She hummed a laugh. “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Used  
> Beyond the Sea


	13. Chapter 13

They came to a narrow mountain pass…with a very long drop.  
Viviane came to a sudden stop and Bofur ran into her. “Lass? What is it?”  
“Um,” she said hoarsely. “I suppose now would be a very bad time to say that…I have a really terrible fear of heights.”  
Thorin looked thunderous. “You…”  
“My parents and I went off a mountain and crashed into the snow bank.”  
That was more understandable. Bofur chewed on his mustache worriedly. The rain was starting to fall harder and would only get worse and there was not fit place to stop. Then he got an idea. Bofur tore a bit of cloth from the inside of his cloak and wrapped it around Viviane’s eyes. She balked slightly. “Wha…”  
“Trust me, lass,” he soothed, lightly tugging on one of her curls. Then he did something that made the Dwarves and probably Mahal himself go wide-eyed and slack-jawed; he took off his hat and placed it on Viviane’s head. Bofur tied the flaps down under her chin and then took her hand in his. “Bifur will lead you and I’ll be right here.”  
Although she couldn’t see, Viviane knew that he was giving her one of his charming, sincere smiles. She squeezed his hand in inexpressible gratitude. Bifur took her other hand and gently began to lead her forward. Viviane forced herself to think of the rolling green hills of the Shire.

Climbing a mountain was dangerous.  
Climbing a mountain when it was raining was reckless.  
Climbing a mountain when it was raining and dark was the height of stupidity.  
Viviane was clutching to Bofur and Bifur’s hands for dear life. She couldn’t see and the sounds were muffled, but she was scared senseless just the same. All she could do was put one foot in front of the other and pray to whoever was listening that they would all survive this feat.  
And she was going to kill Thorin when they got off the mountain.  
“We must find shelter!” Thorin shouted over the storm.  
“Look out!” Dwalin bellowed from behind Bofur.  
Bifur cried out and shoved Viviane against the rocky wall, half covering her with his own body as rocks fell from above.  
“This is no thunderstorm!” Balin cried. “It’s a thunder-battle! Look!”  
The stone around them seemed to crack.  
Viviane was suddenly jerked forward against Bifur. She reached up, jerked off the blindfold and saw a terrible sight; rock giants! And Bofur, Fili, Dwalin, Ori, Bilbo and Bombur were on one of its knees! “Bofur!” she shrieked.  
Bifur shouted in Khuzdul and held her steady. They could only watch in horror as those on the giant were smashed into the mountainside. Viviane echoed the anguished howls of the rest of the Company. Bifur wrapped his arms around her and held her as she sobbed, his own tears mixing with the cursed rain.  
“It’s alright!” Gloin suddenly shouted over the storm. “They’re alive!”  
Sheer relief shot through Viviane, who looked up. She and Bifur followed the others to where their companions were bruised, but alive in front of a cave that looked large enough for all of them. Viviane surged forward and tackled Bofur, flinging her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.  
Bofur went red, but he wasn’t complaining. He held the lass and closed his eyes, losing himself in her sweet, sweet scent and soft curves. He had almost died. He had almost died and he hadn’t given her any hint that he fancied her above everything else.  
“I don’t know what I’d do if you died,” Viviane whispered.  
Bofur felt his heart fly. “I would never forgive myself if I were to let you go.” He half expected her to pull away, but she didn’t. She just sniffed and kissed his cheek again.  
“Oi!” Fili called. “I almost died, too! Where’s my kiss?”  
If the boy wasn’t the heir apparent, Bofur was sure he’d have punched the young Durin for ruining the perfect moment. Viviane pulled back, blushing. She pulled off Bofur’s hat and gave it back to him. “Thank you.”  
“There’s a cave here,” Bilbo called. “It’s big enough for all of us!”  
Viviane went to explore, but Bofur pulled her back. “Lass…” Years of saying whatever was on his mind and now he chose to become tongue-tied?! “Would…would you… I don’t want to be alone.”  
It wasn’t so very long ago that Viviane would have brushed this Dwarf off like every other man who would try to pick her up. But with Bofur, Viviane didn’t feel disdain. Only a warmth that spread through her limbs and opened her heart. She laced her fingers with his and nodded. “You won’t be.”

Thorin gave Bofur the first watch. He sat beside the cave entrance, smoking his pipe while the Company slept around him. Bombur was curled up to his left with Bifur muttering softly in Khuzdul beside his brother. Viviane slept with her back propped up against the cave wall and her head lolling onto Bofur’s arm. Every now and again, the toymaker would run his finger through her hair and thank Mahal each time for sending her to him.  
Suddenly Bilbo popped out of nowhere, pack over his shoulders and walking stick in hand.  
“Just where d’you think you’re going?” Bofur whispered.  
Bilbo looked at him with hollow eyes. “Back to Rivendell.”  
Bofur couldn’t believe it! Making careful sure to not disturb Viviane, he stood up and confronted the Hobbit. “No, you can’t turn back now! You’re part of the Company! You’re one of us.”  
“I’m not, though, am I?” Bilbo pointed out. “Thorin said I never should have come and he was right. I’m not a Took, I’m a Baggins. I don’t know what I was thinking.”  
“You’re homesick,” Bofur said. “I understand…”  
“No, you don’t,” the Hobbit retorted. “You’re Dwarves! You’re used to this life; to staying on the Road, not settling in one place. Not belonging anywhere!”  
His words hurt Bofur more than he would care to admit.  
Bilbo winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…”  
“No,” the toymaker sighed. “No, you’re right.” He looked back at his kin sadly. “We don’t belong anywhere.” He smiled at the Hobbit. “I wish you all the luck in the world. I really do.”  
Bilbo smiled. “Take care of Viviane. She deserves you.”  
Bofur flushed and looked down. Something on Bilbo’s belt caught his eye. “What’s that?”


	14. Chapter 14

“Up! Wake up!”  
Viviane jerked awake at Thorin’s shout and looked wildly around. Suddenly they were all falling! Dwarves bounced around her, crying out and yelling as they slid down tunnels carved out deep into the mountain. Someone caught Viviane’s hand and she was pulled against a Dwarf body. The hat gave it away as Bofur.  
The end came suddenly and painfully. Viviane landed on her back with the top of the ax sticking out of Bifur’s head digging into her spine. Bofur was on top of her with Bilbo perched on top of him. There was moaning from the Dwarves and then screeching from everywhere else.  
“Goblins!” Dwalin cursed.  
There was movement under Viviane and then she was on the ground, Bilbo huddled next to her and the Dwarves around them, Bofur and his mattock directly in front of her. The chattering and screeching grew louder. Goblins swarmed them, picking them up and taking their weapons. Viviane screamed as one tossed her over his shoulder and cackled heinously.  
“Get yer hands off o’ her!” Bofur and Bifur grabbed her back and forced her between the two of them. They guarded her jealously, keeping her as far from any of the goblins as they could. Viviane clung to Bofur, tears stinging her eyes as they were shuffled deep down into Goblin Town.

“Who would be so bold as to enter my domain?” the Great Goblin demanded. He was grotesque thing, all fat and puss and boils with a terrible crown perched upon his fat head. “Spies?! Thieves?! Assassins?!”  
“Dwarves, your Malevolence,” a goblin wheezed. “We found ‘em on the front porch!”  
“And this one, ‘ere!”  
Viviane was ripped from Bofur’s side made to kneel before the thing that made her want to void her already empty stomach. Tears ran down her cheeks and she stared at the Great Goblin like a scared rabbit.  
“And what would this be?” the Great Goblin demanded, leaning closer to her and sniffing. “Smells like nothing I’ve encountered before.”  
Viviane swallowed hard. Time for a bit of the old black magic… “I-I’m a unique sort of person,” she squeaked. “There is no other like me, my lord.”  
The Great Goblin leaned in further. “What sort of person are you, girl?” He giggled suddenly. “Besides my next conquest!”  
Viviane shuddered, but was determined to show face. “I am an Enchanter, sire. The last of my kind.” What the Hell am I saying?!  
The Great Goblin snorted. “And what is it that your kind do?”  
“We are good luck charms.” But I’m not magically delicious!  
“Then it would seem that I have a new pet!” The Great Goblin grabbed Viviane by the arm and lifted her bodily up into the air until she was at his eye level.  
“Wait!” Thorin stepped forward, looking thunderous.  
“Well, well, well!” the Goblin King laughed. “Look who it is! Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thrór, King Under the Mountain!” He gave a mocking bow with Viviane still in his hand. “Oh! But I’m forgetting; you don’t have a mountain! And you’re not a king, which makes you nobody really.” He glanced at Viviane. “What are you doing with an Enchanter by your side? Is she your little pet?”  
Bofur wanted to strangle the monster holding his woman. Bombur placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder and gave him a look that clearly said ‘don’t do anything stupid’. The toymaker gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, but remained still and silent. If he acted rashly, it could get Viviane hurt or killed. Or worse.  
“She is under my protection,” Thorin growled. “Let her go.”  
The Goblin King snorted and looked at Viviane. “Oh no, Oakensheild. I rather like how this one smells. And she’s a charming young thing. Could be used for sport a few times before she becomes ruined.”  
Damnit! Where’s a fast-thinking Hobbit when you need one?  
Suddenly there was a flash of blinding light and all sound seemed to flee their ears. Viviane was knocked out of the Goblin King’s grasp and landed on her side. When the light cleared and she could see again, she nearly laughed out loud.  
It was Gandalf!  
“Take up arms,” the Wizard said. “Fight. Fight!”  
The Dwarves attacked the goblins and took back their weapons. Viviane snatched up her dagger and was suddenly pulled against Bombur’s side. The Great Goblin snarled and made a grab for her, but Gandalf was there and struck the monster down.  
“Run, you fools! This way!” The Wizard led them down rocky caverns and wooden ladders covered with black stuff that Viviane didn’t want a second look at.  
And then at last they were out in the sunlight.


	15. Chapter 15

When they at last came to a stop among several pine trees, Bofur touched Viviane’s face, worry creasing his expression. “Are you hurt, lass?”  
Viviane shook her head. “I’m fine. Nothing broken, at least.”  
He let out a shaky breath. “You were magnificent! Standing up to that monster like you did...”  
Viviane smiled and rested her head on his shoulder. “Amazing, right?” Her voice trembled and then she burst into tears. Bofur’s arms went around her and rocked her back and forth.  
“There, there, lassie,” he murmured. “They can’t hurt you anymore. And I won’t let ye out of my sight ever again.”  
“Where’s Bilbo?” Gandalf asked, looking around and not seeing the poor lad. “Where is our Hobbit?” Viviane stopped crying and looked around. “Where is our Hobbit?!”  
“Curse that Halfling!” Dwalin growled. “Now he’s lost?”  
“I thought he was with Dori,” Gloin said.  
“Don’t blame me!”  
“Well, where did you last see him?” Gandalf demanded. “Tell me!”  
“I’ll tell you what happened,” Thorin growled. “Mister Baggins saw his chance and took it. He’s thought of nothing but his warm hearth and soft bed ever since he left home. We will not be seeing our Hobbit again. He is long gone!”  
Thorin was a direct descendant of Durin. He was a courageous warrior. He was their leader. But none of this mattered as Viviane lurched from Bofur’s arms and backhanded the would-be king. The resulting smack echoed around the forest. The Dwarves stared. Even Gandalf was shocked.  
Sweet, shy Viviane Summers had just hit Thorin Oakensheild.  
“You sicken me,” she said, quietly but everyone could hear her. “You take things for granted, Thorin, son of Thrain. This Company is not here for you; they are here to reclaim their home. They follow you only because you were born wrapped in silk. Your nephews are here, watching you, looking up to you and you would brush them aside!”  
Viviane faced the rest of them. “Of course Bilbo misses his home! But isn’t that what this quest is all about? You want your home back…”  
“And that’s why I am here.” Bilbo appeared behind her. “That’s why I came back. You don’t have a home. It was taken from you. But I will help you get it back.”  
“Bilbo,” Kili gasped.  
Viviane hugged the Hobbit and kissed his cheek. “I feared the worst!”  
“How on earth did you get past the goblins?” Fili asked.  
“How indeed,” Dwalin mused.  
Bilbo floundered for a moment, but Gandalf said, “Well, what does it matter? He’s back.”  
Thorin looked appropriately abashed.  
Howls filled the air.  
“You’ve got to be joking,” Viviane sagged.  
“Out of the frying pan,” Thorin cursed.  
“And into the fire,” Gandalf finished. “Run. Run!”  
Bofur grabbed Viviane’s hand and pulled her as they all ran deeper into the pines. And, though they ran as fast as they ever had, it was all for naught. The pines grew on a cliff and nothing but a shear drop lay before them.  
“What a thing!” Bilbo cried. “Escaping goblins to be caught by wolves!”  
“Those are not wolves,” Dori shuddered.  
“Wargs!” Gloin cursed.  
“Worse than that!” Bofur shouted, arms wrapped firmly around the woman he so cherished. “Goblins on Wargs!”  
“We’re doomed!” Ori wailed.  
“Do not say so!” Gandalf spat. “Up into the trees! Quick! Climb, Bilbo, climb!”  
Bofur tossed Viviane into the air and Dwalin snatched her into the tree and they both proceeded to help her climb higher until they had almost reached the very top. The Company was spread out into five of the pine trees.  
The goblins came charging through the forest and the riderless Wargs jumped up to try and snatch a decent meal out of the trees. Viviane cried out in horror and buried her face in Bofur’s beard.  
Sixteen birds in five firtrees,  
Their feathers were fanned in a fiery breeze!  
But, funny little birds, they had no wings!  
O what shall we do with the funny little things?  
Up in his own tree, Gandalf spied a yellow moth nesting on a pine cone just above Nori’s fantastic hair-do. The Wizard carefully transferred the moth into his hand and began to whisper to it in a language that had not been spoken in the lands of Middle-Earth before. He blew and the moth took off on his breath.  
“Gandalf, do something!” Thorin roared.   
The Wizard snatched a pine cone and magically it caught ablaze. “Take that, you fiends!” He chucked the blazing cone at their enemies. “Little boys who play with fire get burned!”  
The Wargs howled and the goblins cursed their quarry, but they did not flee.  
Viviane looked up at Bofur. “This can’t be the end,” she whispered.  
Bofur looked into her blue eyes and saw that, had things played out differently, this would be the woman he would have married. He saw a whole life in her face; happiness, laughter, children, grandchildren and growing old together.  
The toymaker pulled her as close to him as he could and spent his last moments memorizing how she felt in his arms. “It’s not the end,” he lied outright. “We’ll survive this yet.”  
Then Gandalf climbed to the top of his tree. The sudden splendor flashed from his wand like lightning as he got ready to spring down from on high, ready to take down as many foes as he could manage before being struck down himself. But he never leaped.  
Just at that moment, the Lord of Eagles swept down from above and seized him in his talons. They were gone.  
Other Eagles came swooping down like huge black shadows, some saving the Company while others killed the goblins and their Wargs. An Eagle swooped at Bofur and Viviane and took them in its talons. Viviane cried out in sheer terror and clapped her hands over her eyes. And then she was falling. She screamed, but it was cut off as she landed on the back of another eagle with Bofur behind her.  
“Bofur, don’t let me fall!” she wailed.  
The toymaker wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her white hair. “Never, my lassie. I will never let you fall.”

She didn’t know what possessed her to do it, but Viviane opened her eyes. Now that the danger was behind them, everything seemed to slow down. The wind seemed to be just a gentle breeze and the eagles a natural part. She sat up slowly, her back pressed against Bofur’s front.  
The horizon stretched before them, the night becoming lighter and lighter as dawn approached. Just as the sun began to peek over the landscape and the sky was a soft gold, pink and purple, Viviane carefully let go of the feathers she had been clutching.  
Bofur tightened his grip around her then watched as Viviane stretched out her arms as if in flight. Bofur looked at her and saw that she was staring ahead with awe in her blue eyes. The Dwarf gently moved his hands along her arms until his hands were cupping hers. A small smile tugged at her lips. Their fingers intertwined and they were flying as one.  
Viviane turned her head to the side to look at him. Bofur felt his heart skip a beat and knew she felt it, too. He knew he would have kissed her then, but it was just too soon.  
The Eagles had carried them over landscapes and ridges, beyond the Misty Mountains and to a jagged peak before a plain and great forest. Bofur jumped off the Eagle’s back and lifted his arms up to Viviane, who gulped and slid down into his arms. He caught her and held her close. It wasn’t long before Bombur and Bifur joined them, crushing one another with their embraces.  
“Rî menu ghelekhur?” (Are you well?)  
“I think we might just be,” Bofur sighed, kissing the top of Viviane’s head and grasping his brother’s shoulder. “The next Warg I see, I’ll skin alive!”  
Gandalf faced the largest Eagle and bowed. “Many thanks, O Great Lord of Eagles! May Manwё ever bless your feathers!”  
“I have not forgotten the Wizard who pulled a stray arrow from my wing,” the Lord responded. “But, come! You are all famished; it is plain enough in your eyes. My brethren and I shall catch many a rabbit for you to make a feast!”  
The Eagles made good on their promise and soon the Company was full near to bursting. Bofur reclined against a bit of rock, hands tucked behind his head and grinning as he began to drift off to sleep. The sweet scent of golden butter and lilacs filled his nose and Bofur opened his eyes to find Viviane cuddle against his chest and close her sapphire eyes.  
So ended the adventures of the Misty Mountains.  
But the greatest leg of the journey was just ahead. And it would be the most perilous.


End file.
